


yours, forevermore

by deeppoeticgirl



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13722003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeppoeticgirl/pseuds/deeppoeticgirl
Summary: /SasuSaku/ He never meant to hurt her, but he did. He never meant for things to fall apart so bad, but they did. And now, even five years later, as he holds the Hokage seat and finds himself juggling more responsibilities than he can bear, Sasuke still tries to find a way to make things right. Hokage!Sasuke AU.





	1. Chapter 1

It is only on days like these, as he hears someone knock on his office doors for what has to be the fiftieth time in the past three hours, where Sasuke wonders to himself why he ever became Hokage at all. Buried in paperwork as he is nowadays, Konoha apparently still shows no restraint in giving him more labour than he is able to take in right now, dragging him into meetings left and right, seemingly unable to handle anything on their own. Sasuke has half a mind to hire a second assistant, but with the given reality that no other Kage has ever resorted to it, his pride keeps him stingy on the subject.

Running a hand over his tired features, Sasuke sighs and reaches for the next pile of papers demanding his attention. Gruffly, he calls to his visitor, “Come in.”

The doors creak open—it really should be time to get someone to oil these damn things up, he thinks to himself—and Sasuke’s eyes briefly flicker up from his papers to glance at whoever so needs his governing powers. It takes half a moment of understanding before he suddenly finds himself pausing in his contract reading. His gaze flies up again.

“Sakura,” he acknowledges, brows furrowing curiously as he leans back into his seat; it has to be the fifth time she’s visited his office, today, after all. When she bows politely and smiles at him, in that sweet way she always does, he forces himself to ignore the way his stomach does an odd sort of tumble. “You’re back. What is it this time?”

The words must come across displeased, he realizes, because her smile seems to fade quickly at this, green eyes flashing with something like hurt. He nearly curses himself aloud, lips mulling out into a thin line. Complicated as their relationship is right now, the last thing he wants is to give her more reason to think that he doesn’t appreciate being around her.

_(that he doesn’t want to fix this mess he so stupidly caused nearly five years ago.)_

He can’t even bring himself to be relieved when she bounces back into cheeriness again, because the smile to her lips is too clearly fake.

“Sorry Hokage-sama,” she replies, cradling a small stack of documents he’s just noticed closer to her chest. His hand curls tighter around his quill—he hates it when she calls him that. “I know you’ve been busy today but it’s just—these papers are pretty important.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightens. Great, he muses. _More_ paperwork.

Exhaling the most patient breath, he shifts his eyes back to the contract on his desk and carries on with the reading, before eventually responding, “And this can’t wait until tomorrow?”

He hears her shift as he nods to himself and graces the tedious document with his signature, but when he glances up again, he’s not prepared to meet the sight of her, looking small and utterly apologetic. It is just like her to feel so much culpability for adding to his seemingly endless duties, and it makes something in him soften.

Sighing, he looks down to his work once more.

“All right, fine. Give them here,” he relents, reaching out with his free hand to accept the heap of important hospital documents. “I’ll have them ready within the hour. Make sure to come back by then.”

“Oh that’s so great, thank you so much, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura gushes, stepping quickly to his desk to hand him what he needs. “Kakashi-sensei was never as good to me when he was Hokage, that lazy coot, so I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

Sasuke doesn’t know what to reply, though, because his mind finds itself stalled at the return of the familiar suffix; it has been too long since he’s heard it. It reverberates deep, throws him back in nearly too distant memories, where everything in him warms and brightens at the thought of how simple things were between them.

_(compared to now, anyway—because truth be told, nothing between them had ever been near the world of simple.)_

For this alone, Sasuke looks up again. Takes in the too-happy blush to her cheeks and her crinkling eyes, remembering the days where that alone felt enough to him. His throat grows tight.

“Sasuk—Hokage-sama?”

His grip squeezes the quill. There’s that damn honorific again.

“It’s nothing,” he dismisses, looking down once more. He pretends to move forward with the next paper, but his mind won’t allow him to read through. “I’ll see you in an hour, Sakura.”

“I—yeah,” she says, though her tone seems noticeably quite confused. He doesn’t blame her. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

As she leaves, he grits his teeth. God he fucking hates when she calls him that.

.

.

“You remember that time that I was angry at you for getting the job instead of me?” Naruto prompts him a few days later, as his dim-witted friend dictates it is time to annoy him again.

“How could I forget?” Sasuke answers him blandly, more interested in the blueprints splayed out before him. His lips purse in concentration—this underground system is more intricate than he’d first estimated. “Those months were the most peaceful I’d ever had, and I’m obviously never going to get those back.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his friend flip him off, but chooses to ignore, leaning more closely to the southwest corner of his plans to inspect something.

“Anyway,” Naruto goes on, “I’m actually pretty damn happy you’re the one who got it these days, if you could believe that.”

“And why’s that?”

He snorts. “Have you _seen_ your office? You’re buried in work. You haven’t even been out of the village in a year.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow at that; he doesn’t need to be reminded of what he is incredibly well aware of.

“Gods know that wasn’t what _I_ was expecting when I thought I wanted to be Hokage,” Naruto says, smug as he’d ever heard him. “At least I get to go out and lead a squad of ANBU into reconnaissance missions and carry out badass assassinations—when will _you_ ever do that again?”

That hits a nerve and Sasuke finally looks up to glare at the boasting blond, eyes sharp and venomous and threatening castration.

Naruto simply crosses his arms, and whistles lowly. “Wow, you sure are pitiful today. Do you want me to train with you or something, bastard? You’re usually _much_ less easy to get to.”

Sasuke shakes his head, and turns back to his work. “In case you haven’t noticed, idiot,” he says, gesturing plainly to his desk, “I have work to do. This infiltration mission isn’t going to write itself.”

Unsurprisingly, this captures said idiot’s attention instantaneously. “Infiltration mission, you say?” he inquires, stepping closer. His tone suggests he is probably grinning. “Anything your best ANBU captain can help you with?”

“No,” Sasuke replies without missing beat, “because this ANBU captain is on unpaid suspension for a month.”

It is all too satisfying the way Naruto recoils at this, and Sasuke can hardly keep his lips from twitching as his dumb face reddens in pure outrage.

“ _What!”_ he shrieks.“What the hell for,you _asshole_!”

“For that comment you made about my _boring_ job.”

Naruto sputters, and points an angry finger at him, reddening all the more. “You—You can’t do that!” he says. “That’s abuse of power! That’s totally illegal! I’m gonna—”

“You were being insubordinate, and as your Hokage, it is well within my abilities to establish a punishment for it,” Sasuke cuts in, fixing him a flat look. “If you want to go ahead and complain to the Council, be my guest. But until then, dobe,” he waves him off and looks down to inspect the blueprints again, “get out of my office. You’re dismissed.”

A full silence takes place, one in which he can only assume the blonde is glaring daggers at him, but after no more than two minutes, he finally hears his furious friend trudge his way out, slamming the heavy doors shut.

It is only then that Sasuke finally allows himself to smirk; the idiot deserved it. Yet he is forced into careful composure once again as the doors come wide open a few moments later, the lack of a knock indicating Naruto’s return.

Exhaling a patient breath, Sasuke settles on him an expectant look. “What?”

Calmer, but still evidently most unhappy with him, Naruto crosses his arms. “There’s a team dinner next weekend,” he grouses. “Sakura wanted me to ask you if you’re going to come, this time, or if you’re going to ditch us again.”

There is such resentment here that Sasuke knows without a doubt that Sakura must have phrased herself differently, but he brushes this aside regardless, cocking his head instead. “Next weekend,” he echoes, “you’re sure about that?”

It wouldn’t have been the first time Naruto mixed up dates, after all.

“Are you deaf or something? That’s what I said, bastard!”

“What time?”

Naruto makes a gesture at that, like he doesn’t understand why his best friend is asking such an obvious question. “At the same time it always is, what do you think?” he says, rolling his eyes. “Then again, I guess maybe you’d think that could have changed in the entire year you refused to show up.”

Sasuke’s eye twitches at the taunt, but he replies nothing, all too aware of the blonde’s overtly sour mood. Instead, he remains quiet and takes a moment to think, considering the schedule he has set up for this week. Brows furrowing pensively, he eventually gives a slow, almost uncertain nod. “All right,” he concedes. “Next weekend should be fine.”

Naruto seems thrown off by this. “…Really,” he says, after a lingering pause, wary eyes watching him most carefully. “You’re sure.”

“I’m not.”

“But you’ll try?”

“Hm.”

“For Sakura?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer, here, and finally returns to the task at hand, a frown forming to his lips. If Naruto has been paying any attention since he’s returned to the village after defeating Kaguya, he should already know the answer to this question, he reasons.

Whether he actually does or not, Naruto seems pleased by the outcome anyway, seemingly back to his cheerful self as he makes some sort of noise of triumph. Swinging the door shut more amiably, he declares, “See ya next weekend, bastard!”

Sasuke sighs slowly afterwards, once again finding silence at last. Absentminded, he wonders to himself if Sakura’s katsudon is still as good as he remembers… or if perhaps, it is even better.

_(and does she even make okaka onigri anymore? or has she quit, now that he stopped showing up at all?)_

Lips tightening, Sasuke returns his attention to his work instead, and tells himself he will only find out, eventually. But now is not the time to dwell on that.

.

.

He is walking along the path leading to Konoha’s main market when his ex-teacher approaches him the following evening, wearing the same retired Hokage robes that he’d last seen him in, and holding an old, too-familiar orange book. At first, Kakashi says nothing as he slides next to him and matches the languid pacing of his strides, carrying on his reading most peacefully; Sasuke’s eyes narrow at this, but he keeps his silence and continues on his way regardless, unconcerned.

“So I heard you suspended Naruto for a month,” the Rokudaime finally says, after a few moments have passed. There is a strange sort of quality to his tone, like he is most absolutely amused by the notion.

But Sasuke is too tired to smirk, now, even as his chest swells with unrepentant pride. “I did. What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” Kakashi replies, though he finally looks away from his book, this time. He is most definitely finding this situation hilarious, Sasuke deduces as Kakashi looks at him. “It’s fun having so much power, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t do it on a power-high.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“He was being insubordinate.”

“Of course he was.”

There is a certain something to his tone that Sasuke doesn’t like, and draws a glare out of him. Kakashi merely smiles beneath his mask, feigning innocence.

“How is the office doing?” he asks, then, putting away his book at last. “Still keeping up the good work?”

“Still picking up whatever slack you left behind two years ago,” Sasuke retorts, nose scrunching up with distaste. “You really were the laziest Hokage.”

“And yet still more beloved than you,” he sings.

Sasuke’s eyes narrow at him again, more viciously than before, and yet Kakashi appears unfazed. It is unbelievably aggravating how smugly the man can act when he had barely really lifted a finger in the time that he led Konoha—even moreso when Sasuke knows that he’s actually right.

But then, voice gentler than before, he hears Kakashi inquire, “How long has it been since you last slept in your own bed?”

This has him pausing in his steps. Because for a moment, just for a moment, Sasuke truly does not remember when was the last time he’d been home for more than just a few hours. It has certainly been well over a month, he muses. His lips press together.

“A while,” he answers, at last. “Probably close to six weeks to my best guess.”

The Rokudaime’s expression softens with sympathy—that of which Sasuke neither wants, nor needs. He is still content with the choice he’s made for his career, no matter the heavy workload and lack of personal life. There are things that he must do for his family, things only a Hokage can, and that alone is enough to bear through the hard days.

“You do know you can ask to take a few days off every once in a while,” Kakashi points out as they start walking again. “That’s what assistants and former Hokages are for, after all.”

“So I can come back with even more work than I had before?” Sasuke snorts. “I don’t think so.”

His ex-sensei smiles behind his mask again, and cocks his head. “Who says it has to be me?” he says. “I’m officially retired, remember?”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke shakes his head and shifts his path towards two nearby merchants. Kakashi follows without a word, waiting patiently for him to make a purchase. The two of them step away moments later with a bag of fresh tomatoes and a plastic box full of freshly cooked shrimp tempura and rice, and start their way back.

“Late lunch?” Kakashi asks.

“Early dinner,” Sasuke corrects. “I doubt I’ll be able to step out later with all the papers on my desk.”

“You could always take breaks.”

“If I do, I lose motivation—which I suspect is what always happened to you when you were in charge.”

He fixes Kakashi with a pointed look, but the latter only shrugs.

“Can’t lose motivation if you never really start,” he chimes. “What are assistants for, if not for boring paperwork?”

Sasuke’s features twist with disgust; there is a pride to his tone that he will never understand. Kakashi laughs lightly as he looks at him, apparently finding some strange humor in his expression.

“Moving past that,” he says, “have you told Sakura that you’re coming to the next team dinner?”

Sasuke gives him an odd look. “No.” He slips his unoccupied hand into his pocket. “I assumed Naruto would.”

“He did,” Kakashi relents.

This throws him off. “Then why ask if _I_ did?”

The Rokudaime shrugs. “She’s very excited for you to be there. I haven’t seen her quite like this in a long while, and I thought you might like to as well.”

Sasuke frowns, but answers nothing.

“When are you going to stop pretending that there’s nothing between you two?” Kakashi questions, then, a hint of sharpness to his tone. This takes Sasuke by surprise.

_(it is a subject his ex-teacher seems to be touchy with, even cautious—but one he has apparently lost all sense of patience for.)_

Looking away, Sasuke feels his throat grow tight. There is a surge of quietly suppressed shame that seeps into his stomach, and he doesn’t wonder why. He has been too familiar with it, in these past few years.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, Sasuke keeps his gaze to the ground. “I’ve never pretended otherwise.”

He can basically feel Kakashi’s eyes narrowing at him. “And does she know that?”

Sasuke pauses again. His mouth parts, closes. And then parts again. “…Of course she does,” he eventually answers. But, even to him, it doesn’t sound convincing at all.

Kakashi shakes his head, displeased; _knowing_. “It’s been years, Sasuke… Time works in cruel ways. Whatever certainties Sakura had about you and her back then—she doesn’t have them now. Especially not after what happened. Why do you think she’s always so insecure around you?”

Sasuke’s frown worsens at this, and he starts forward again, kicking a rock in his path. “It’s none of your damn business,” he says, belatedly. He’s talked enough about his private life, about a matter that concerns only him and Sakura, and he refuses to go on about it with anyone but her. “Keep your nose out of places it doesn’t belong, Kakashi.”

At least, there is enough of a sense of finality to his tone that Kakashi understands he will no longer carry on with this conversation. He sighs.

“You’re right,” his ex-teacher acquiesces, somber. “I’m sorry for worrying about my students’ happiness. How terrible of me.”

Jaw clenching at the jibe, Sasuke turns and snaps his gaze to the nosy Rokudaime, whose face is suddenly grim as ever, rousing guilt to his gut once more. He glares anyway. “We’re not your students anymore,” he tells him.

Shaking his head once more, Kakashi turns on the heels of his feet and gives him a dismissive wave, before he calls, “You always will be, Sasuke.”

.

.

Luck doesn’t seem to want to present itself to his side at all that week, as it turns out, because as he is finally finishing up the last of his work and getting ready to leave _(miraculously)_ early, Shikamaru emerges into his office.

“You’re not going to like this,” he declares, brows furrowed heavily.

There is such severity in his expression that Sasuke feels all of his hopes for a leisured evening dissipate in an instant, nearly bringing him to swear. He grits his teeth. “What is it?”

“The Council wants a meeting again tonight.”

Sasuke stiffens. “Tonight?” he repeats, features hardening. Anger seeps into his tone; he’s already way too worn-out for this. “They can’t schedule a few days from now like everyone else?”

“It’s the Council, Sasuke—You know how they are.”

Grumbling darkly under his breath, Sasuke runs a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes. He then leans back into his chair, looking up at his assistant once more. “Any news from our shadow crew, at least?”

Shikamaru shakes his head. “Nothing that can help us yet,” he says. “We need more time—more _intel_ —before we can do anything.”

“You’ve had four years already,” Sasuke deadpans. “I need results. Soon.”

A sigh escapes the other man at this, and he gives him an exasperated look. “It’s slow work, Sasuke,” Shikamaru proceeds to explain. “Undermining the Council to create a new one won’t be easy. We need more allies—and most importantly more proof. If you don’t want Konoha and the whole of our allied countries to think that you’ve betrayed your own people yet again, you’re going to need a lot more support.”

Whether it is because he is entirely too tired to have much patience anymore or because he is entirely too irritated to have everything blamed on him merely on accounts of him being Hokage, Shikamaru’s words strike a chord with him. “Kakashi was the one who started this,” he growls, narrowing his eyes. “Not me. If anyone should take the fall for this, it should be him.”

“That’s true, it should be,” the Nara agrees, which brings Sasuke some degree of calmness back. “But unfortunately your face is the one that’s on the operation now. When you became Hokage, you became lead. The people won’t look to who started it in the shadows… they’ll look to who started it with them.”

There is too much truth to this, and Sasuke finds it more aggravating than he can explain. Still, there is nothing he can do—for now, anyhow—and so he relents and waves his hand vaguely, sighing.

“How much longer?” he asks.

Shikamaru pauses, and his eyebrows furrow a bit, as if pensive. “Six months at best,” he replies, slowly, “but to be safe I’d stretch that out to a year.”

Sasuke’s fingers twitch. His lips thin. “Better a year than another four, I suppose,” he mutters.

It is the Nara who sighs now. “You know my wife hates you for making me work on this on top of my usual hours at the office, right?” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Your wife never liked me anyway,” Sasuke replies, rolling his eyes.

A smirk graces the other man’s lips. “Very true.”

Dismissing the subject, Sasuke takes a moment to run a hand through his hair wearily, before exhaling a long, quiet breath. “Do you know what the meeting is about?”

Shikamaru nods. “The upcoming chunin exams. Apparently the Council was unhappy with the last meeting and changed their minds about its organization.”

Sasuke almost groans, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose. That meant it was going to be a long, long meeting, probably; tedious and stupid and frustrating, too, at that. He sighs heavily.

“Fine,” Sasuke mutters. “I’ll handle it, then. You go home to your wife.”

Expectedly, Shikamaru seems surprised; he blinks once, twice. “Are you sure?” he asks, brows furrowing. “You’ll be in there for a while—”

“Shikamaru,” Sasuke cuts in, leveling him with a tolerant look. It isn’t often that he spares such unexpected acts of kindness to his subordinates, and his assistant is just about getting him to regret it. “You’ve done good work. Go home to your family.”

Hesitant, Shikamaru lingers for a moment, seemingly uncertain as to whether or this is a trick, before he finally seems to soften. “Thank you,” he says. Bowing, more out of appreciation than respect to his rank, Sasuke suspects, he nods. “Good luck in there, Sasuke.”

Responding with his own curt nod, Sasuke watches his assistant stride out of his office quickly, envying the faint, satisfied smile to his lips. His jaw tightens when he finds himself alone once more, teeth gritting as he glances at the time.

Today of all days… The world has to hate him.

.

.

He doesn’t even have the energy to shower, when he finally gets home later that night. His head is pounding and his eyes are as achy as they are overtired, beckoning him instinctively towards his bedroom.

Dragging his feet over the hardwood floors, Sasuke sighs and palms the back of his neck, free hand shrugging off his Hokage wear as he goes. He lets out the faintest groan when his body hits the mattress, exhaustion weighing so heavy on his limbs that he doesn’t even bother with the blankets.

It really has been too long since he’s been in his own bed, since he’s had a proper night of sleep; six weeks is already six weeks too many. The one provided in the suite of the Hokage tower isn’t exactly bad, if he’s honest, but it isn’t _his_ , and he never seems to manage more than a few hours of sleep before being dragged out to his office again. Some nights, he never even makes it there, passed out over his papers instead.

_(at least, he usually wakes up to a fresh cup of coffee in such times, made and served just the way he likes it—and there is only one person who has ever bothered remembering this, he knows. warmth and guilt tear at his chest; it is always a conflicting storm when it comes to her.)_

Listless, drowsy, his eyes slowly slip shut, arm extending to the empty side of his mattress. It is too big for one, he thinks, half-lidded gaze taking in the abundance of extra room at his side. Twenty-seven, and still unmarried—his mother would have taken his head for this. A sleepy smile tugs at his mouth.

What would it be like, he wonders, to have someone to wake up to?

An image flashes to mind, of short, pink hair splayed out over his pillows, and sleep-hazed green eyes crinkling up at him.

No, he thinks to himself, not just someone. He knows exactly who he’d like to see at his side.

_(an irrefutable fact—one that hasn’t changed since his feelings came to light not long after the war.)_

Chest tightening, Sasuke shifts onto his other side, back now facing the empty space.

Who he wants is of no question. He just isn’t sure that the notion of _them_ is one he can make happen anymore. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next sunrise, Naruto shows up to his apartment, banging ruthlessly at his door and yelling obscenities loud enough to wake his neighbors.

Barely rested, disheveled, Sasuke snaps up from his bed with red-purple burning eyes, a certain ferocity settling to his chest. For the barest moment in his half-roused mind, he considers dispatching the ANBUS hidden somewhere around his window to resolve the problem and allow him to resume his much needed sleep; but the idea is near-instantly abandoned as he gathers enough of himself to remember that this is _Naruto_ , the man who never gives up and never backs down in the face of something he deems necessary or important.

_(and this, he has known with absolute conviction since the moment he found he would miss the important dinner he had told he would attend, is one of them.)_

He’d just never thought the idiot would actually come shouting at him so early in the morning—the _one_ fucking morning he’d actually organized himself to come in late to the office in order to catch a damn breather. The thought alone is enough to send him rising to his feet, steps heavy yet swift as he makes his way to his front door; Sasuke just about yanks it off its hinges.

But he doesn’t even have the time to open his mouth before Naruto grasps him and forces him backwards, charging his way inside his home.

“Hey would you look at that, you fucknut!” he snarls, tossing him back against nearby furniture, making it rattle. “You missed _another_ team dinner yesterday! Surprise, _surprise_.”

Glancing momentarily at one of the two precious frame his short-tempered friend has nearly caused him to break, Sasuke steps away from the mantelpiece and fixes him with a murderous glare. “Naruto, for fuck’s sake, you couldn’t do this later?” he growls, dismissively waving at the ANBU peering warily at his still open door. “I’m too tired to deal with your shit.”

As he moves to close it, however, Naruto yanks him back with enough ferocity to stagger him for the barest moment. Sasuke feels a furious fist close around his shirt, keeping him in place.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re tired, bastard!” the blonde spits, red-faced and muscles tightened harshly. “You’re hearing me out whether you like it or not, got it? Damnit, why the _fuck_ did you ditch us again, _huh_? I told everyone you were going to be there—because _you_ told me you would be, you absolute pr—”

In a sudden, swift move, Sasuke shoves him away, glare just as vicious as before, patience already breaching its limits. “Grow the fuck up, Naruto,” he says, finally managing to reach and push the door shut. Perhaps he closes it with more force than necessary, but right now, Sasuke doesn’t care. “Maybe you’re too used to things working out just the way you want them to, but for the rest of us, life doesn’t always go how we’d like it to. As Hokage, I have responsibilities that I can’t ignore—”

“ _Bullshit_!” his best friend snaps, propelling him back again. “You’re telling me you couldn’t take one damn evening off work? That you couldn’t say _no_ , just this once? Like you said, you’re the _goddamn Hokage_ , Sasuke, so it’s not like you really have anyone to answer to! I mean do you even _know_ how much effort Sakura puts into making these dinners?”

Sasuke stiffens. “I’m not trying to disappoint her—”

“Well you did, you _asshole_!” Naruto shouts, but his voice wavers, cracks.

_(with fury, with disappointment; with pure, unadulterated heartbreak.)_

He is tired of seeing Sakura getting hurt, Sasuke realizes. He’s tired of allowing his own best friend to continuously let her down like this.

_(sasuke’s tired, too.)_

Emotion wells up at his throat, and he looks away, swallowing. Exhaling the slowest, steadiest breath he can manage, he reaches to rub the bridge of his nose.

“I was pulled into an important meeting last night, Naruto,” he mutters, quiet. “Ask Shikamaru if you don’t believe me. I wasn’t trying to get out of it.”

Naruto only shakes his head, though, shoulders promptly hunching.

“You should have seen the look on her face, Sasuke,” he tells him, voice barely louder than a whisper. Something in Sasuke’s chest drops, aches. “Gods, I wish you’d just fucking seen the look on her face when she realized you weren’t coming. You have no _idea_ how excited she was for you to finally come to a dinner—but I guess work always comes first to you right?” At this, he looks up at him again, eyes flashing. Pissed off. “Everything else just comes second to you.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow; it is a low blow and he knows it. “That’s not—”

“Oh, fuck off with trying to deny it!” Naruto snaps, all traces of anguish gone, the resentment back at last; he pushes him back again, sends him hitting the wall. “We all know it—but Sakura most of all, _right_? She learned that firsthand five years ago from that fucking stunt you pulled!”

In an instant, his spine chills, his body bristles; the features of his face darken, become savage.

“Get out,” he says, then, after a tense, tense pause. His tone is frighteningly low.

But unfortunately Naruto doesn’t want to budge.

“Look, for fuck’s sake, I’m just trying to say that you should start making more effort from now on. Start spending more time with us, with _Sakura_ , so that—”

“Get. Out.”

“—you can, you know, finally fix things between you guys. I know you care about her, I know how you _feel_ , and I know it’s been killing you. I mean Sasuke, you two haven’t even been _close_ since you started working at—”

Snatching out to grasp at the blonde’s collar, Sasuke whirls him around and slams him violently against the wall, mismatched eyes frenzied and wild. “Naruto, get the _fuck_ out before I strangle you!”

A silence sets in, thick and deafening and weighted with a still-growing storm. Naruto simply stares at him, frowning, inspecting—as if trying to decide. Then, after a moment, he sighs, and forcibly pries off his best friend’s hands from his clothes, features grim.

“She misses you, Sasuke,” he finally says, soft. “Don’t you miss her too?”

He heads for the door and leaves his home before Sasuke’s mind even fully has the time to grasp the words, drawing a wave of devastatingly overwhelming feelings to his chest that nearly makes it hard to breathe.

Clenching his eyes shut, Sasuke’s fist flies out and slams into the wall, breaking both skin and plaster.

“Hokage-sama?” a voice calls, wary. One of his many ANBU stationed outside, he assumes, but doesn’t have the mind or strength to confirm.

“ _What_?” he grinds out.

“…Is everything all right?”

Sasuke cinches his jaw shut tighter, shaking, trembling, bleeding. “Fine,” he growls. “Everything’s fucking fine.”

He needs to fix this before it breaks them both.

.

.

This was how it all began: with warm lingering glances, and fleeting secret smiles; with barely intertwined pinkies, and faint touches shared in silence; with stolen moments, and quiet affections, unbeknownst to anyone but themselves.

They had been twenty, comfortable, spending most of their time together. Ridiculously close, in love, but not yet ready for each other.

_(seventeen had been a mess, an arduous struggle to mend bonds once thought to be broken. eighteen had been forgiveness, progress. and nineteen… nineteen had been growth, and peace, and self-discovery—or perhaps an ever-growing awareness of what had probably always been there.)_

They had been slow, _hesitant_ —almost frustratingly so. Growing ever-closer with every outing, every dinner, every walk… every feasible time spent at each other’s side. But there had never seemed to be a rush, to feel a need to address whatever was blossoming between them—because why would there have been? They’d been so young, so peacefully content with what they had. They’d had all the time in the world.

Sighing slowly, Sasuke rolls over onto his back, and fixes his half-lidded gaze above, tiredly watching the ceiling fan spin, and spin, and spin. Spinning like the one in Sakura’s kitchen, the one they stood beneath when he’d kissed her for the first time on the evening of her twenty second birthday. Where she’d looked at him like he was the moon to her stars and the half that made her whole, and he’d known then that though that wasn’t quite true, he’d still do anything to have her look at him like this every day for the rest of their lives.

_(and he would, he would—gods, he promised himself he would.)_

And then that damn letter came. His promotion to Chief of Konoha’s Police Force, what he’d been chasing since mere weeks after he’d stepped foot back in Konoha three years beforehand.

The opportunity that Sasuke would only later realize would hold his biggest mistake.

_(the one that caused them so much distance, the one that tore down everything they had so carefully, patiently built—the one that ruined it all.)_

Gritting his teeth, Sasuke throws an arm over his eyes. Remembers how he pulled away without meaning to, how he buried himself in work to accomplish goals that had before now never been possible to chase; remembers how quickly time passed, how he never made the time, always skipping out on whatever occasions Sakura invited him to.

How he left her behind without a second thought, confused and with too many questions on her mind.

He sees now what he couldn’t see before, sees how it all must have seemed to her at the time. To have him disappear so suddenly after that night; after the private moment they had shared, after he’d taken the only step missing to carry forward what they had. To have him forget, to have him _ignore_ —to have him disregard everything they’d taken their long, precious time to shape.

_(“sasuke-kun can we… can we talk?”)_

His throat closes up. He can too clearly recall the day she walked into his office two months afterwards, looking much too small and considerably powerless. Dressed in her medic white coat, holding a bag of their favorite takeout restaurant, she’d evidently come from work, perhaps looking to share a lunch. Back then, he hadn’t understood why she seemed so unsure, too caught up in his new responsibilities to realize how much time had truly passed.

So stupid, he thinks, swallowing. He’d been so fucking stupid, back then. So fucking blind, too focused on what work he thought could not wait.

_(“not right now, sakura. unless what you have to say has something to do with a case of life or death, i doubt it’s as important as this—i can’t take any distractions.”)_

Unimportant. A distraction. That’s what he’d called her, _them_ —or at least, that’s what she’d taken from it, then.

_(what she continued to take from every dinner he missed after that, every invitation he declined in favor of boring paperwork, of mission outlines, of secret meetings exchanging intel that could one day perhaps help bring justice to his clan.)_

He’ll never forget the way her face fell that day, how the faintest gleam of still-burning hope finally vanished once and for all. How she quietly turned and slipped out of the room without even a word of goodbye, leaving him suddenly feeling unsure, muddled, too shaken by the sight of her inexplicably breaking apart. He never understood why, even as Naruto barged inside his office a full week later, hurtling at him with a punch too surprising to evade, leaving his nose bloodied and his eyes wide as the blonde yelled and called him every name in the book.

It took four months before it finally hit him, crashing over him in a sudden, overwhelming epiphany at the end of a too long work night, where his tired mind had wandered to his lately always missing _(always avoiding, he corrects)_ pink haired teammate. He felt frozen, breathless; horrifying guilt twisting so painfully at his chest.

He’d let her believe they were nothing to him for _four_ months.

_(and the most terrifying thing, in all of this? there was too much truth to this misconstruction—he really had dropped everything the moment he could pursue his goals once more. he really had in some way proved that what they were—whatever it was—was never more important than bringing justice to his dead family, than ensuring a new system. that she’d only been a momentary distraction while he awaited the inevitable moment of opportunity.)_

And this was how they fell apart: with a letter, an all-consuming ambition, and a not-quite misunderstanding; with all-seeing eyes who were foolishly blinded, and a realization that came too late.

.

.

“Hokage-sama?”

“What.”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you. You wanted me to let you know when it was time for you to get back at the office.”

A deep, slow sigh. Already? He hadn’t even slept.

“…Fine. I’ll be right there.”

.

.

.

He doesn’t see her, for the next few days that follow, the likes of which he finds a little odd. As head of the hospital since over a year now, Sakura’s directorial responsibilities have most oftentimes become intertwined with his, and as such, her standard days are typically not without visits to his office. Still, Sasuke tries not to jump to any conclusions, as there have been days before where the hospital has kept her too busy with emergencies—but he finds it hard when Naruto’s words are running so incessantly in his mind.

_(“you should have seen the look on her face, sasuke. gods, I wish you’d just fucking seen the look on her face when she realized you weren’t coming.”)_

The door clicks a moment later, and Sasuke blinks, looks up. His heart races as he takes in the sight of Sakura, cradling a rather hefty stack of documents to herself. It doesn’t take much more to notice that her eyes look a little red, and that her smile is a little wobbly, churning even more guilt to his gut. He almost feels sick; knowing he’s upset her enough to actually make her cry this time somehow makes everything infinitely worse.

Before he can even think of anything to say, however, Sakura already beats him to it: “I heard Naruto caused you a bit of trouble the other day.”

His throat tightens. Though the tone of her voice is mostly both gentle and sad, he can hear an all too distinct edge that tells him she is not too happy with their teammate, and has in all likelihood yelled at him as much. Sasuke doesn’t get it, because he understands why Naruto loses his cool when he’s been watching him hurt Sakura for years.

_(without meaning to, really, but that is of little consequence to the point.)_

Thus, unsurprisingly, he finds himself a little at a loss at what to say, as usual.

“Might have paid me a visit,” he replies, eventually.

Sakura merely sighs, and shakes her head. “He shouldn’t have,” she says, starting towards his desk at last. But she can’t quite look at him, and it makes him want to grit his teeth. “I know he means well, with that big, too-good heart of his, but that doesn’t mean he had any right to march his way to your place like that. I know work always comes first to you, Sasuke-kun.”

His heart jolts at the return of the tender suffix for a split moment, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on that so much, because this time at least, he can explain he had no choice in the matter. “Sakura, it’s not—”

“Ah, sorry,” she interrupts, and smiles at him in a way she never has before, one which is strangely heartbreaking. It is a distant, tired, utterly broken smile, he realizes, one of a woman whose heart is too worn to hear any excuse she’s probably already told herself a million times before. “It’s not what I meant. I just… I know how important your work is to you. I know you’re just trying to do what’s right for your family—and that you’re trying to make sure this doesn’t ever happen to anyone else, ever. In the face of all that, how could a simple team dinner come first?”

She’s become truly used to being second best to his career path, to his family, and it tears something awful inside of him. “Sakura…”

But Sakura shakes her head again; most probably, she doesn’t think she’s strong enough to hear him out. “It’s okay, Sasuke-kun. I mean it.”

No, it’s not, he wants to say, but his throat is all knotted up. So he swallows instead.

Finally, Sakura moves to put down the stack of hospital documents on his desk, green eyes now heavy and growing wet. Sasuke keeps his wretched silence as he watches her fiddle with the edges, as if trying to make the pile more presentable. This was always something she’d done when she was upset, he remembers from years ago. Back then he would have reached out to her without hesitation, without fear.

But right now, Sasuke doesn’t think that his touch would be welcome at all when he is the reason she’s so clearly torn to pieces again, so he only _watches_ , chest clenching terribly as his mind drowns him in shame.

Then: “What did you do to your hand?”

He stiffens, blinks, reels back; his gaze flies up to her once more. “What?”

Sakura only frowns, furrows her brows, and skirts around his desk, leaving him nothing but a stunned out daze, a mess of guilt and confusion. He’s too taken off guard to do much of anything when she grabs his injured hand, inspecting it worryingly.

_(to which, he’s surprised she even noticed, if he’s honest, because he isn’t even too scratched up after these past few days.)_

“Sasuke-kun, it’s all bruised and scraped!” she exclaims, like she wasn’t utterly torn apart all but thirty seconds ago. It makes his heart stutter, makes his head spin, because he hasn’t seen her quite so familiarly caring in much too long now, and he almost can’t bear it. “What did you do? Beat down a wall?”

There must have been some kind of shift to his features then, something that told her she’d actually been right, because she gapes at him shortly afterwards, disbelieving.

“Now why would you do that?” she chides, hand glowing green as she begins to heal him. “Were you trying to break your hand, Sasuke-kun? The walls around here were built thick after Pain’s invasion, and I know you know this! What were you thinking?”

I wasn’t, he wants to say, but he’s too caught up in her, too caught up in how she keeps calling him _Sasuke-kun_ like she barely ever does anymore; too in awe and deep, ever-longing love as he watches her soothe, watches her mend—

_(his skin, his heart, his soul. like always… or at least, like she used to.)_

How can she still be here, so selfless, so loving, _so good to him_ … when only a few days ago he’d shattered her heart again, had her crying for days?

Even after all these years, he muses, throat tightening, she can never stand to see him hurt.

Before he can help it, Sasuke finds himself murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

He almost swallows as she freezes, when that vulnerability slowly flows back into her eyes. She keeps her quiet, for a few long moments.

“It’s fine,” she replies, muted. “Really, Sasuke-kun.”

“It’s not, Sakura,” he says, because he’s tired of hearing her say it already; tired of letting her accept this like it’ll never change. And so, he goes on and promises, “I’ll make it next time.” And he means it.

_(or at least, he wants to.)_

Green chakra fading at last, Sakura pulls away, and merely gives him a weak smile, like she doesn’t believe him. “Okay,” she says.

It makes his lips tighten, and makes his knuckles clench—because he wants to try his hardest to make time for her, to make up for every damn time he let her down. And maybe she doesn’t believe him now, but, he thinks as he stares at her walking away, simply having this resolve is a start.

.

.

He summons Naruto to his office five days later. Expectedly, when he barges through the doors, the blonde still looks more than a little sullen.

“What?” he demands, crossing his arms and jutting his chin at him. “Whaddaya want now, bastard? Suspending me for a month isn’t enough? I can’t believe you were actually serious about that, by the way. I got bills to pay!”

Refraining the urge to roll his eyes, Sasuke jerks his head to the ANBU by the door and motions him forward. “Give him the scroll.”

At this, Naruto raises a brow, shifting towards the ANBU. Muttering his thanks, he nods and accepts the parchment from the man, but doesn’t open it, glancing back Sasuke’s way instead. “What’s this?” he asks.

“Open it and find out.”

“Is it bad news or good news?”

Reaching to rub the bridge of his nose, Sasuke’s gaze sharpens to a glare. “Naruto, just open the damn thing,” he says.

His best friend whistles lowly in return. “ _Yeesh_ , okay,” he relents. “Keep your panties on, they’re not on fire yet.”

Pressing his lips together, Sasuke heaves a sharp breath and bites back the snarky remark that almost slips. He drums his fingers against the desk—sometimes he really wants nothing more than to punch Naruto’s dumb face for making him lose his patience like this.

Luckily, though, Naruto ends up doing as he’s asked, and proceeds to read through the scroll. His blue eyes blink quickly as he unmistakeably realizes what it contains.

“This is a mission,” he states, looking up at him. When Sasuke merely nods back, Naruto knits his brows together and scowls at him. “Damnit, Sasuke, that’s fucked up—Why are you making me read a mission scroll when I’m suspended?” he snaps, tossing the scroll away as his face begins to redden. He’s furious again. “Are you really trying to get back at me so badly for pissing you off that much after you missed that dinner? Because I never thought you’d actually fall so lowly that you’d tort—”

“Naruto, shut up,” Sasuke barks, when his tirade has gone on long enough. Irritated, he moves to rub at his temples. “It’s _your_ mission, idiot. Do you really think I’d be sharing confidential information with you just to torture you?”

His best friend raises a brow. “Do you _really_ want me to remind you how lowly you’ve stooped in the past?”

It’s Sasuke’s turn to scowl, now. Fucking hell, this idiot is pushing his buttons. “Fine,” he declares, jaw clenching tight, “if you don’t want it, I’ll find someone else to—”

“Oh, don’t be an asshole,” Naruto cuts in, waving him off as he rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll take it. But only if that means I’m off my suspension, yeah?”

Gods, he can be such a fucking _headache_ , Sasuke thinks, glowering at him. Still, he shakes his head yes anyway, and turns to the papers at his desk, sifting through them to look for something in particular.

“There,” he says, when he finds it. “This is a list of all the available ANBU teams. You’ll need to pair up with another squad for this mission—I’ll trust you’ll know which one you’ll work best with.”

He extends his hand, offers the scribbled page, but keeps his gaze on the many other documents spread about, gauging how long it would take him to go through them all tonight. Maybe he could manage to save himself some time from the office tomorrow.

As Naruto grabs the sheet of paper from his hand and makes some noise of affirmation, he decides that he probably can.

“Naruto,” he starts, never looking up, “when does Sakura take her lunch?”

His best friend pauses at this, likely caught off guard. “…Why do you wanna know?” he eventually asks, slowly. “You wanna talk to her or something?”

He sounds wary, sounds confused even, but none of that really matters to Sasuke because it’s none of Naruto’s business what he wants to do with this knowledge.

( _though, he supposes, some of this is likely due to his still-persevering annoyance with him at the moment.)_

“Tch. Just answer the question, you idiot,” he says, looking up at him with a most unimpressed stare. “Do you know when she takes her lunch or not?”

For a moment, Naruto says nothing; only frowns deeply at him, mulls his lips. Then, with a great deal of hesitation, he finally says, “Well… she usually takes it around half past one, I think. But sometimes, I know she gets so busy that she doesn’t really get to eat until two.” He pauses, here, crosses his arms again. “You’re not going there to mess her up again, right? She’s had a rough week since the dinner, Sasuke, and she’s finally been getting back to what she’s usually like! So if you’re going there with any intention to—”

“I’m not going to hurt her again,” Sasuke suddenly says, and his voice is strong, firm. Though he knows that he can’t promise him this, he hopes that Naruto will understand that he is trying to change, to be better for her; like he should have been.

“Right,” Naruto responds, still frowning. “Well you better not. Or else I’ll punch your face in so hard that nobody will be able to recognize you, you got that bastard?”

When Sasuke merely frowns back, the blonde finally smiles, if only slightly, and starts to make his way out.

Before he leaves, however, he calls out with a half nervous laugh, “Oh, by the way! You might want to send some genin or chunin brats to clean up your face on the Hokage mountain…” He stops, shifts towards him, and gives him that same shit-eating grin that Sasuke has never learned to like. “Someone seems to have messed it up real good this morning!”

Gritting his teeth, Sasuke reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose again, closing his eyes. Sometimes, he muses, and in so many ways, Naruto is _still_ a fucking moron.

.

.

When he shows up at the hospital the next day a little past one thirty, he finds she hasn’t arrived in her office quite yet, leading him to conclude she is probably running a little late in her duties. Sasuke doesn’t mind this, though, and only sets on waiting; at first only patiently leaning against her desk, eyes wandering and hands in his pockets, before he reluctantly feels compelled to explore, gingerly approaching every curious detail he finds in the room.

He isn’t sure how much time passes until a long-time medic notices him as she is passing by.

“Hokage-sama?” she questions, catching his attention and urging him to veer his gaze her way. She seems completely astonished to see him here, but he doesn’t have to wonder why when he has barely stepped into the hospital since his inauguration day. “W-What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Sasuke merely nods, but doesn’t care to elaborate more. If he’s waiting in Sakura office, it should be obvious why he’s here, he thinks.

The medic seems to get this, thankfully, because she asks, “Does Sakura-san know you’re waiting here for her?”

“No,” Sasuke replies. “She doesn’t.”

“Ah.” The young medic nods in understanding, like this makes more sense to her. “I would hope she didn’t. She’s been leading an emergency surgery for a few hours now. I suspect she likely won’t be out for another few, either. Should I tell her you came by?”

A mild rush of disappointment washes over him, at this, and briefly, Sasuke wonders if this is how Sakura felt when it all started going wrong too many years ago. Shaking his head, he sighs patiently.

“No need,” he says, already beginning to head towards the door of her office. His hands are still in his pockets. “I’ll come back another time.”

But, even as he walks away with these words, something tells him his unusual visit will undoubtedly reach her ears anyhow.

Sasuke only hopes it might help her believe that things are changing.

_(and maybe, just maybe, that it might make her smile—make him ease the pain in her heart, even just a little.)_

.

.

“Still at work at this hour? That’s a record,” Shikamaru comments as he enters his office late that night, cradling his young toddler in one arm.

In return, Sasuke nods at him, but carries on with his reading regardless. “Trying to get an early day tomorrow,” he clarifies. “What are you doing here?”

“Again?” his assistant asks, brows rising barely. “I thought you already did that for today.”

Sasuke simply hums, shoulders rolling in a faint shrug. “Plans fell out.”

“Ah,” Shikamaru replies, humming back. “Guess there’s always another time,” he goes on, though his voice is particularly softer than Sasuke is used to.

Sasuke looks up again to this, sees the other man’s lips curling faintly as his son blubbers out nonsensical noises and uses his stubby little hands to pat his beard. He watches Shikamaru readjust his hold, watches how he reaches to affectionately pinch the boy’s cheek, and feels a jolt of muted envy barrel through him, clenching at his heart.

“Anyway,” Shikamaru drawls, breaking his daze as he turns his attention to him once more, “I’m here because I forgot a few files earlier. Won’t be able to finish organizing the next Kage meeting without them—and you wanted that for tomorrow, right?”

Briefly glancing back to the child in his arm—Shikadai, is it? He can’t remember—Sasuke simply makes some sort of nonchalant noise and promptly goes back to his papers and contracts, ignoring the still lingering feelings of hushed jealousy. It will likely be a while before he has any children of his own, after all.

_(if, that is, he has any; sakura has always been the only one he’s ever envisioned having a family with, and if she is not by his side, sasuke knows without doubts that he will never want this with anyone else at all.)_

“Just get it to me before the weekend,” he says, frowning slightly. “The meeting won’t be for another few weeks anyway.”

In his peripheral, he sees Shikamaru nod and effectively cross the room towards the filing cabinet in the corner. He hears him sift through it, hears his barely year old toddler whine, before his lazy assistant finally steps back and makes for his desk.

Without looking up, Sasuke inquires blandly, “What is it?’

“You know there are showers in the basement, right?”

The question catches him so off guard that he can’t help but pause, blink. His gaze shifts upwards to fix the man before him with a most quietly perplexed stare—one that oddly demands answers all the same.

Shikamaru merely smirks. “No offense, but you look like a mess,” he says, pausing just a moment to softly chide his son away from the folders held under his free arm. “And since it looks like you’ll be here for a while, thought I might let you know that you have… options.”

His smirk only grows wider here, and Sasuke feels his eyes narrow in return—while he and Shikamaru have grown fairly friendly since the two years he became Hokage, Sasuke’s still never really grown to appreciate when someone made fun of him.

_(apart for, maybe, the one girl he loves who has always been the exception to everything.)_

“Get out before I force you to work early tomorrow,” he warns, waving him away. “And get your kid to bed. He shouldn’t be up at this hour.”

Shikamaru looks like he wants to say something about that, but upon seemingly thinking this over, chooses to keep his mouth shut and walk away instead; a result of the threat he made to make him work in the morning, Sasuke presumes. It’s almost midnight after all—the man would in a likelihood only probably get too few hours of his precious sleep.

_(something sasuke suspects shikamaru treasures even more, now that he’s raising a child.)_

Still, Sasuke thinks, running a hand through his hair that without a doubt is in dire need of a wash, he has a point.

Sighing, he goes to lean back in his chair again, evaluating the work on his desk. A few hours more at best, he muses, mouth forming a thin line. Perhaps it is best he takes a break now—a shower could wake him up a little.

Nodding to himself, Sasuke decisively moves to his feet and slips off his Hokage robes, hanging them over his chair and leaving him in nothing but his casual nin clothes. Stretching lightly, he rubs the back of his neck and casually heads out of the room, moving across the hall and down the stairs. He’s never been in the basement of the Hokage Tower before, really, because to his knowledge, it is mostly comprised of staff lockers and too-old, forgotten archive rooms, none of which have proved themselves necessary in his two years here. He doubts anyone honestly comes here often.

When he gets to the unfamiliar red metal door, Sasuke pushes his way through and near-immediately spots the showers to the left corner; he shrugs off his shirt, heads towards the lockers, and sets out to search for a stack of towels, hoping he might find a clean one. To his wonder, there proves to be no difficulty in this task, leading him to believe that perhaps this basement isn’t as deserted as he’d first guessed.

Sighing, Sasuke strips off the rest of his clothes and wraps a towel around himself, before finally heading out towards the showers. He can already feel the relief beginning to seep in—this will definitely help him finish the rest of his work.

But just as he is rounding the corner, he hears it: the sound of a shower opening, of someone humming in contentment, of feet quietly padding in the water. His body stiffens, his gaze snaps up, mind startling from his thoughts.

He doesn’t expect to meet the sight of _Sakura_ , bare as the day she was born, eyes closed and mouth parted as she runs a hand through her wet pink hair, skin already flushing from the heat of the water; she’s been looking forward to this, clearly, those soft pinks lips of hers curling into a relaxed smile, exhaling the quietest moan of satisfaction.

Sasuke’s own mouth parts against his will, stomach dropping as his wide eyes slowly run over every inch of her, taking everything in. His fingers twitch; he can feel his blood slowly start burning, can feel his mind spinning out of control, the simmering want hardening in his lower belly.

And then her eyes blink open, and his throat closes up. He sees her freeze, hears her breath catch, watches as her blissful serenity gives way to pure, complete panic.

He turns abruptly just as she looks like she is about to scream, neck and ears flushing deeply as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “ _Fuckingshitsorry_ ,” he basically sputters.

Blushing terribly, and more flustered than he’s ever been in his life, Sasuke briskly walks away before anything else can be said, mind now overtaken with images he’ll probably never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The heat is on. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

He feels her before she even opens the door, the next morning. Her long-familiar chakra spiking anxiously, she lingers at the knob and struggles, as though uncertain that she wants to go in at all. Sasuke doesn’t blame her; he’s been just as on edge all morning—all _sleepless_ _night_ , actually—and the knowledge that she was sure to come by today had left him antsy, _restless_ , anticipating her visit with something like dread.

_(because he can’t get those fucking images out of his head, of her naked and wet and moaning, and it’s been driving him nuts.)_

So when he does see her step inside the room in his peripheral, finally, with her usual head medic coat and her too distinctive pink hair, Sasuke can’t even be surprised that he can’t bring himself to look at her. His gaze stays locked on the papers before him, a knot forming thickly in his throat. He hopes Sakura doesn’t take offense to this.

“U-Um…” he hears her start, and it’s damn near the hardest thing not let his gaze flicker up at her, catch her too adorably blushing face that she’s undoubtedly bestowing him with. His free hand clenches up tight. “I… was told you came by my office yesterday.”

Of course you fucking were, he thinks, because the world apparently has set itself on throwing him under the limelight, these days. Though he’d already half expected this, Sasuke still finds himself a little more than aggravated; he hates meddling in all its forms.

Still, he nods to Sakura, because in all their years of not-quite-friendship-but-not-quite-more, he’s never been one to lie to her, and he doesn’t instant to start now. “I did.”

“You did?” she questions, her voice growing in pitch. She sounds so surprised that it rips at him with guilt. “But why?”

_(she’s not used to this anymore, not used to being part of his plans, of his personal life—because she hasn’t been in years.)_

Swallowing, Sasuke finally lets his gaze shift up to her, leaning back into his seat as he forces himself to look straight into her eyes, both hands clenching up, now. His stomach flips at the memory of that low, sweet sound she made, nimble hands running into her soft, soaking hair and over her flushed, smooth—

“Sasuke-kun?”

Snapping out of his utterly humiliating daze, Sasuke feels the back of his neck burn up and stiffens at once, lower belly burning with want. What the fuck is he doing? He’s supposed to be trying to fix them. His throat suddenly feeling too dry, Sasuke tries to clear it with as much subtlety as he can.

“It’s n—” He stops himself before he really even begins, because no, what he wanted when he went to see her—and still wants—is definitely not _nothing_. And so, swallowing, Sasuke takes a moment and tries again, with some awkwardness, “I… wanted to see if you’d grab lunch with me.”

“You—Really?” Sakura replies, and she looks so stunned. Flushing more deeply, she brings a hand to her neck at this, toying shyly with the necklace there.

It is absolutely shameful how easily his gaze follows the movement. Mouth watering, Sasuke feels the hot rush of simmering want again; he imagines fitting his mouth there, breathing and kissing and _tasting_ , dropping down just a little bit lower to nip and tease and lick at those hauntingly perfect little pink nipples—

Fuck. _Fuck_ , he swears to himself as he snaps his heated stare back to his desk, refusing to allow it to wander any longer. This isn’t right. He is getting too painfully hard already—god, he’s so fucking pathetic—and any more will only lead him back to the same situation that he’d found himself in last night.

_(unable to stop thinking about her, unable to stop fantasizing. sinking into his god forsaken hokage chair, eyes closed, and head thrown back; jaw clenched tight as one hand gripped at the edge of his desk and the other frantically worked at his aching, throbbing co—)_

His face warms over, and Sasuke runs a hand through his hair, mismatched eyes widened just slightly. Fucking hell, he has to _stop_. Their bond is basically all but broken—this is the very _last_ thing he should be thinking about.

“Are you free today?” he manages to ask, a short while later. He hopes she doesn’t notice the slight hoarseness of his voice.

“I—I have paperwork but… I can push it off until tomorrow?” she offers.

There is such unexpected bashfulness to her tone that he can’t help but to look at her this time, finding her still blushing, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Looking so happy amidst fragile hopes.

Sasuke swallows the lump in his throat. Gods, he muses, why the hell hadn’t he done this any sooner?

“Come back to my office at one then,” he says, nodding at her. “My treat.”

In those pretty eyes of hers, he sees the glimmer of hope burn brighter. Sakura tucks the files nearer to her chest. “Okay,” she breathes. “But Sasuke-kun, are you sure that _you_ can—”

“Sakura,” he cuts in, soft. His heart thrums at the way her mouth parts. “It’s fine. I’ll just stay later.”

The smile she gives him in response is the most beautiful one he’s seen on her in years.

_(one small step closer to making things right, his mind whispers.)_

.

.

She is all smiles and lighthearted laughs when they head out to eat, later that day. It robs the breath from him. Though he still can’t properly shake off the heated thoughts from his mind, Sasuke finds it easier to keep focus when she looks at him the way that she does—not quite like when she had after their first kiss… but something near it.

Still, he thinks, she’s not completely at ease, as anyone would expect from a situation much like theirs. She is unsure of this, of his intentions, that much he can tell in the way that she keeps herself small, at times wrapping an arm around herself. She is hesitant, trying the best she can to let go of the past and enjoy this moment, but her insecurity remains present, stubborn. Sasuke doesn’t hold it against her in the slightest.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t make it to our last team dinner,” she tells him towards the end of their meal, as she is poking at a piece of soft-boiled egg. Sasuke flinches a bit, but somehow, the smile to her lips remains genuine, and it reassures him. “We had a pretty great time, the three of us. Kakashi-sensei made his yakisoba specialty—you remember how good it is, right?—and I made kushiyaki and cake. And Naruto, well—he brought a lot of board games to play, as usual.” She laughs here, so freely, and Sasuke’s heart skips a beat at the sound. “I think Kakashi-sensei cheated on all of them, too,” she says, teasingly, turning to look at him with those too-pretty eyes crinkling.

He wants so much to kiss her at the sight.

_(he won’t, though, because he knows: kissing her will not repair the mess between them… it will only likely make things worse, more complicated. now is not the time.)_

Looking away, Sasuke instead turns back to his bowl, muttering, “Wouldn’t be the first time he did,” before he takes another bite, thankful that his mouth is busied as he hears her laugh.

“You know,” she says, when her laughter subsides, “I’m glad you didn’t lose your sense of humor in all these years, Sasuke-kun.”

This quiets him, takes him by surprise; that Sakura even thought his work could have consumed him to this point tells too much about the way she’s been picturing him since that time, and it makes him ache.

“Ah—my lunch is almost up,” Sakura exclaims then, before he can even think of how to respond. Hopping out of her seat, she begins to search at her big medic coat’s pockets, undoubtedly rifling for her wallet. “I should get going. How much do I—”

“Sakura, it’s fine,” he interrupts, climbing out of his seat and fetching out his own wallet. He pays for both of their meals and leaves a substantial tip, nodding to the restaurant stand owner before turning her way again. She’s blushing. “Come on,” he says, putting a hand at her back; the heat of her almost makes him shudder, but he does his best to ignore. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you.”

He wonders if he imagined the way her body quivered at his touch, too.

.

.

It’s with a whispered thanks and a long, wordless hug that Sakura leaves him with as they reach the hospital. It makes his throat run dry.

_(she was so warm, so soft against him. he wanted to touch her everywhere.)_

This is not going the way he wants it to.

.

.

He comes looking for Sakura at her office the next evening, intent on giving back the files she’d left at the Hokage tower earlier that morning, and twice as intent to keep trying to establish a change; he wants to see her, wants to do her a favor, and she’s late, anyway, so it gives him an excuse _(not that he needs one, really)._

It’s to the sight of her stretching and recently returned from a surgery that he walks into, when he gets there, her small mouth opening wide with the most adorable yawn as she tiredly rubs at her neck. A successful surgery, he guesses, judging by the way Sakura smiles when she sees him in her doorway, whispering a sweet, “Hello, Sasuke-kun.”

His jaw slackens just barely, and he swallows as subtly as he can, unable to really answer much of anything in reply. Instead, he merely nods, and makes his way inside, murmuring an almost mumble of, “Long day?” as he places the small stack of documents on her desk. He swallows again when he looks at her.

She looks exhausted, truly, he can’t help but notice. Exhausted, but somehow, still warm and happy and _glowing_ in that way she always is lately, if only sometimes more demurely. It makes his heart stutter; Sakura is always so damn beautiful.

“Too long,” she replies, finally, snapping him from thought to find her beaming brighter at him. His throat dries as she begins to pull up her hair. “But still good. Yours too, I hope?”

He isn’t able to answer, though, too caught up with the way she bares her neck to his view, with the way his stomach flutters in temptation. He forces himself to glance away, merely grunting in response, one hand clenching at the pant of his leg as he keeps his gaze focused on the first frame he sees. This is not what he wants, this is not how he wants things to keep going, and he has to express some kind of fucking discipline before—

A groan sounds to his ears then, so pure and low and most certainly _Sakura’s_ , and he can’t help himself: his mismatched eyes snatch back in an instant, drinking in the sight of her deliciously shut eyed and lolling her head lightly, apparently trying to knead away too-tight knots from her neck. She seems to stiffen slightly in the moment after, pretty green eyes opening sharply as her mouth parts and her cheeks flush. He can barely even keep himself together when their eyes meet.

Stiff, and jaw clenched tightly, he mutters an almost gruff, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before he is already out the door.

He wonders if he can even stop this.

.

.

Things only spiral out from there, much to Sasuke’s frustration. His control only slips further and further away from him with every moment he finds himself in her presence; whether alone or surrounded by nameless people, trying to heal or exchanging heaps of important documents. Even simple gestures become too unfairly attractive, too unfairly _arousing_ , to him and it makes him feel helpless, contrite; reduced to the desires of a lesser, selfish man that have for too long been denied.

Sakura isn’t helping with the way that she looks at him either, obviously nervous and ever-aware of the kind of thought he excessively often has in mind—but brimmed with the same want, too, if only quieter, more hesitant. She trembles every time he touches her skin _(holding a hand to her back, closing careful fingers around her wrist, grasping gently at her hip)_ but never tries to move out of reach, only flushing a too endearing shade of red that makes him burn harder as she lets the tension between them build higher, and higher, and higher—

It’s absolutely electrifying, absolutely fucking _maddening_ , and Sasuke hates it. Loves it.

_(especially when she stares at his lips, just spaces away from him, green eyes glossy and hazed, ruled by desire… wanting to give in, but knowing far too much better.)_

He doesn’t even understand how either of them manage to hold out, these days.

Sighing, sliding a palm against the cool tiled wall, Sasuke turns over the knob in front of him and tenses as the freezing spray of the unfamiliar shower hits his impossibly burning skin, sending his jaw clenching tight. He hasn’t been back here since he’s walked in on Sakura in all her wet glory, but with such a torturous night, he didn’t have much of a choice—ever since his pretty little pink haired ex-teammate had left his office a few hours ago, he’d been constantly taunted and consumed with feverish fantasies of every way he could have had her, worshipped her. A cold shower was a must.

But it does nothing, Sasuke finds out, as he stands there and bears the icy deluge; stiff as ever, craving only growing stronger, he realizes it’s only getting worse. It makes his fists clench, a furious groan tumbling from his mouth. His cock twitches and quivers as he remembers that right here, in this room, this is where she stood, where he saw her bare for the first time: wet, rosy and happy. Sighing out those sweet, sweet sounds of satisfaction that he desperately wants to—

Whispering a curse, Sasuke flips the handle further for hot water, and closes a hand around himself. Slowly, firmly, he pumps his cock, imagines slipping his fingers between Sakura’s thighs that day, choking around the groan that threatens to slip out. Fucking hell, this is becoming too common, he thinks, as he settles on a rough, too-delicious rhythm. Still, he lets himself get lost to the hot imagination of his mind, lets himself succumb to the pleasure his hand gives him.

Until, when he finally comes a few minutes later, gasping and stuttering out her name, he slumps against the wall, panting, and feeling no real sense of fulfilment—as usual.

Sasuke thinks he might break soon.

.

.

It happens two days later, on an afternoon that isn’t particularly different than any other.

He is standing by one of the large windows in his office, holding a half-eaten ball of homemade okaka onigri, mind utterly taken with the only woman he loves. He is warm, lax, as he always is when he is thinking of Sakura—but there is hollowness, too, along with an ever-growing sense of failure. Disappointment. Because though their bond seems to have gotten better lately, they are still not necessarily _close_ as they once had been; there is a guardedness to her heart, and a distance he cannot seem to cross, and the heat that rules them both only makes things more difficult.

Sasuke fears that it is turning what they have into something that might crush them both, something they might never come back from—and he cannot handle the thought, he realizes. He cannot let them go on like this anymore.

_(it will kill him, if they do. but it will destroy her even worse.)_

It has to end today, he decides, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat. He needs to tell her everything, tell her all of what he’s held inside. Needs to bring an end to whatever mess this is becoming. To the misery that traps them both.

Taking a bite from the onigri Sakura has so lovingly taken her time to make for him, Sasuke sighs, savoring the taste of it; she’d taken him by surprise, this morning, having left a small box on his desk alongside the coffee she always left for him in these times he passed out over his work. Always so kind, he muses, taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully.

His eyes slip shut. Fuck, he loves her. Loves her too fucking much and she doesn’t even know, doesn’t even—

Someone knocks, then, and breaks him from his silent reflection. Opening his eyes once more, Sasuke grits his teeth briefly before calling at his visitor to come in, shifting on his feet to face them. His mouth parts in surprise when he sees Sakura stride in, too lovely and cradling her usual thick stack of documents in her arms. She smiles at him, and his chest both throbs and swells, throat growing tight again as he merely nods in return.

“Hokage-sama,” she greets, and he doesn’t hate it for once, because there is a distinctively teasing edge to her tone and it speaks about how happy she is. He hates that he will all too likely see it fade, soon. “Glad to see you’re finally up. Is your neck okay? You didn’t seem to be sleeping so comfortably there.”

“I’ve had worse,” he murmurs, because it’s all he can find in himself to answer. The way Sakura giggles makes his stomach flutter.

“Yes, you have,” she agrees, and smiles even wider, moving to drop the files on his desk. “But you should still take care of yourself, Sasuke-kun.”

She takes notice of her opened box of onigri, then, and Sasuke’s breath hitches as she glances back at him, her pretty green eyes suddenly so much brighter. He can’t help but wonder if this is how she would have looked at him, too, had he simply taken the time to show up at a team dinner every once in a while.

_Fucking hell_ , Sasuke thinks, fingers twitching at his side, this isn’t helping either—he shouldn’t be thinking about how he fucked up, how he hurt her. He’s wasted enough times wallowing in the mistakes of his past.

Exhaling a quiet breath, Sasuke looks away, runs a hand through his hair, pensive; his heart squeezes and aches when he sees her smile fall in his peripheral, features shifting with what he suspects is likely confusion.

He’s only proven right when he hears her question with great hesitation, “Sasuke-kun…?”

His gaze draws up, slowly. He takes in her deep, furrowed brows, her creased forehead, those small perfect lips parted worriedly. And those eyes—those fucking eyes of hers, always so full of love and care.

He needs to tell her everything before he loses his chance again.

“Sakura,” he murmurs, starts, throat suddenly dry. “I…”

And then it happens.

She nervously sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, and his mind simply blurs, stops, narrowing eyes automatically zoning in. His mouth waters. His belly burns. He wants so badly to breach the distance between them and catch that reddening flesh between his own teeth.

_(what was he going to say again?)_

Chest pounding away, Sasuke looks up on instinct, catches her gaze with his own; desperate to find some kind of anchor to hold him. But what he finds is only his undoing: a pure, earnest want hidden by too-complicated feelings, an ever-present love… and a silent plead.

_(to give them what they both want, what they’ve been fighting, what they too hungrily need—to give them both what has been killing them slowly.)_

Making some sort of choked, anguished sound, Sasuke swiftly flashsteps in front of her and finally, _finally_ relents, pushing the only woman he loves back against the wall before swooping down and kissing her hard.

Maybe this was inevitable after all.

.

.

He doesn’t really know how they end up like this, if he’s honest—with his hand between her thighs, pressing and stroking and curling without much grace or experience, but with insistence, while his pants are pulled down just low enough to free him from too tight constraints. From the moment Sakura had kissed him back, it had all become a bit of a haze afterwards; all that he’d been aware of had been her hands in his hair, her mouth of his own, biting and panting and whimpering his name between hot, breathless kisses as he’d palmed every inch of her that he could possibly reach.

Sasuke thinks he might have felt her hips grinding down on him at one point, might have even ground back into her himself, but he isn’t exactly sure—because in truth he’d been far too caught up in the way that it felt to be with her like this, to have her so close to him, kissing and touching and craving and _loving_ him. He’d been waiting for this for too fucking long.

_(gods, he loves her. he loves her, he loves her, he loves her—)_

Small fingers wrap around him then, and he feels himself flinch, knees quivering at the overwhelming sensation before he finds himself burying his face in her neck, exhaling a shaking breath. One of her hands is still in his hair, tangled in and gripping tightly, and he swallows, eyes slipping shut as he feels the hand around him squeeze and begin to move. And though she clearly doesn’t know what she’s doing, doesn’t know how to touch him in any way he might like, it is still _Sakura’s hand_ that is wrapped around him and those are still _her lips_ that his name is tumbling from so adoringly—and that alone is enough to have him shuddering, twitching, the hand between her thighs snatching out to seize at the back of her shirt.

“Sakura,” he pants, grazing his teeth to her neck, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. He nearly groans as she squeezes him harder and moves with a little more confidence, prompting him to reach out and grasp her chin with one hand, catching her mouth with his.

His heart swells as she frees him only to cup his face in her palms, kissing him even deeper, wrapping her legs around him tighter; seemingly trying to pull him flush, as closely as he could get. He can only return the fervor, kissing her back with twice the intensity, emotion welling thickly at his throat as she whispers his name so heartbreakingly.

I’m right here, he wants to say, but he can’t find the breath that he needs—so he breaks away and does the only thing he can think of to reassure her: he widens her legs, looks down, and fits himself between the warm, slippery place between her thighs, sinking into her depths.

Sasuke can’t describe the feeling that washes over him at the cry that she lets out, then, her small face burying itself in his throat, thin arms snaking intimately around his neck. It reverberates within him, overwhelms his senses, and for a long moment, he is aware of nothing more than the way she feels all wrapped around him like this. She is a piece of hot, wet heaven, smooth as silk and deliciously tight… but more than that, she is _connected_ to him; physically, emotionally—close as she can ever be.

Eyes fluttering shut hard, hands squeezing greedily into the flesh of her ass, Sasuke nuzzles into her hair and finally allows himself to move. He’s not quite as gentle as he probably should be, he knows, especially not when he’s sure he’s currently taking her virginity against the damn wall of his office, but with the intensity of everything he’s feeling, he simply can’t help himself, can’t maintain his control. It’s like he’s drowning, but in a way that feels intoxicatingly _good_ , gratifying. _Fulfilling_.

_(especially when she grips him like this, moans his name like this, scratching her nails over his scalp with enough sharpness to have him groan.)_

Making love to Sakura is infinitely better than anything he’s ever imagined.

Overcome with a rush of pure, desperate need, Sasuke reaches out and takes one of her hands still buried in his hair, roughly pushing it back against the wall. When she gasps, he bites her ear, and grunts, dragging his lips to her jaw, her cheek. He intertwines their fingers with all the tenderness he can muster when he reaches her lips, kissing her slow and deep, trying to steal the breath from her. He can already feel his edge teetering close, _too_ close, but he’s not ready for this to end yet, not ready to put back the distance he’s been trying so hard to breach—

But then Sakura whispers those three words, breathes them against his lips like she’s never meant them more than she does right now, and Sasuke is a goner. He comes, pressing his forehead to her own, squeezing the hand that he holds, sticky wetness spilling into her as he chokes on a moan. It is pure, quenching nirvana, and he can do nothing but hold on, grind. Try to desperately prolong it all.

When Sasuke slumps down from his high, eventually, he is only left panting, soft, buzzing with a blissful sense of satisfaction that extends far beyond the mere physical sense. He is content, _complete_ , unable to string a proper thought to mind.

_(this is exactly what he wanted, but couldn’t find on his own—exactly what only sakura could give him. it makes him breathless.)_

But then Sakura’s pager goes off, and she stiffens, untangling her hand from his to seek out the device in her med coat. Still dazed, he only watches as she checks it, and curses, unable to do much of anything as she pushes him away and scrambles to put back on the only article of clothing he’s taken off. She jogs out in hurried strides just as he recollects enough of himself to realize what is happening—what has _just happened_ between them.

Fuck, Sasuke thinks, eyes growing wide. Running a hand through his hair, pants still undone, he clenches his jaw rigidly, panic settling in. _Fuck_.

What the fuck have they done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the smut part of this story finally begins. And trust me, there's A LOT of it. :))))


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day and Singles Awareness Day, ya beauties! Enjoy the smut.

Sasuke doesn’t sleep, that night, too restless by the impending disastrous impact his loss of control will undoubtedly have on their relationship. Damn it all, he’s ruined everything again, hasn’t he? Ruled by the wrong thoughts as he has been too many times before. Sasuke doesn’t understand how he can be so stupid—apparently since his time as a nukenin, he hasn’t learned a goddamn thing about the ways _not_ to fuck up his life.

If only Sakura had the strength to push him away, he wishes not for the first time. If only she could have said no. Maybe if she had, he would still have a chance of making things right between them. Of putting things back how they used to be—or at least, to some extent, anyway. But how can he, now, after so recklessly taking her virginity on the fucking wall of his office? There had been a bed in the adjoining room, yet he hadn’t even bothered to take her there. Hadn’t bothered to take his time, to learn what she liked.

_(he’d been so selfish, as he always is—as he always has been since he was an orphaned boy.)_

It doesn’t help that Sakura fails to show up as she usually does, the next morning. Sasuke grits his teeth, feels the guilt that has been eating at him worsen. His mood only gets fouler as the hours pass, as his teammate finds herself still missing and every knock that comes to his office turns out to decidedly _not_ be from her.

He’s really fucked it up this time, he thinks by the time the evening comes. Goddamn lust… he repressed it for too long—they both did.

Brows furrowed heavily, Sasuke tries to turn back to his work and read the contract before him for the umpteenth time. He tries, and tries, and _tries_ , but he fails, unable to even concentrate anymore. His mind keeps him too distracted, too agitated; winding relentlessly as it worries and rages and regrets everything he’s ever—

The quill snaps in half in his hand, and Sasuke curses, tensing in his seat. There are splotches of ink all over the document now, and it makes him want to snarl. Just what he needed, he seethes silently, exhaling a sharp breath as he begins to clean up his mess. Absolutely fucking _great_.

His anger rules him so much that he barely registers his office door clicking open and shut, or the pair of feet quietly padding his way.

He only realizes someone else is in the room when a small hand touches his shoulder, eliciting half a jump from him. Sasuke looks up, gaze wide, and takes in the sight of Sakura, cheeks wet with tears and green eyes puffy and pink. His mouth parts—

_(a myriad of questions run through his mind: what happened? who hurt you? am i the one who did this to you? did someone say something to you? is there anything i can—)_

—but he doesn’t have the time to move or even ask what’s wrong before he suddenly finds her mounting his lap, hands he can only describe as desperate sliding into his hair. She grips him tight, burying her face into his neck; he can feel her trembling all over, little breaths and noises puffing against his skin as she evidently tries her hardest not to fall apart.

_(but by the dampness growing against his collar, he knows: she has already lost the battle.)_

“Sakura, what’s wrong? What happ—”

Her hand claps over his mouth, and she begins to shake much harder. He can both hear and feel her little sobs as she tightens her hold on his hair, seeking to shield herself even more from whatever pain is gnawing at her. It tears his heart to pieces.

“Don’t—Don’t talk,” she whispers, hiccupping small, anguished gasps. “I can’t—It’s just—I don’t want to talk right now… I can’t _handle_ any talking right now…”

His chest squeezes, and his throat grows tight. But as Sakura drops her hand in the next moment and pulls her face away to kiss him hard, Sasuke soon finds out he wouldn’t have been able to say anything anyway.

A noise falls from his throat, mismatched eyes blinking quickly. He feels her fingers tug at his locks, raking lightly at his scalp. All too quickly, they fall into his lap. Sasuke stills at this, breath hitching as she frantically works to free him. His jaw clenches when she pulls him out, blood rushing to his head. But as he goes to tell her that this isn’t right, that they shouldn’t be doing this right now or at least until they’ve talked about it, Sakura sobs against his mouth and holds him like she’s never needed anything more in her life, and it pushes all rational thoughts from his mind.

He can help her feel better, for a change. He can make her stop hurting.

_(so he does.)_

Moving his mouth along with hers, Sasuke joins his hand with her own as she reaches to tug her clothes out of the way. His belly burns as his fingers finally meet soft, wet skin, touching exactly where she guides him as she widens her thighs. Kissing her deeper, Sasuke touches her, pleasures her—hopes that he can make her slick enough by the time her grief demands for more. And when it does, he takes hold of her hips and helps her slowly sink down on his cock, trying his best not to let his head knock back against his chair as she starts to ride him for all he’s worth.

All he can do is hold on; even as Sakura keeps crying, keeps clinging to him. Kissing him like she’ll never get another chance. Heart twisting, Sasuke forces himself to focus on the way she sounds instead, moans and blissful gasps puncturing each hiccup and tearful breath as she rocks herself exactly the way she needs it. When she breaks away for air, he turns his lips to her neck, her shoulders, the top of her breasts. Mouthing hot kisses everywhere, running his hands over her sides soothingly.

She takes him by surprise when she comes: letting out a low, sweet cry, digging her nails into his skin. Sasuke stiffens, choking on a moan as she whimpers his name breathlessly, rides out her high. His mouth parts, feeling her quivering endlessly around his cock, grinding against his lap. He tumbles over the edge with her, spilling his hot sticky wetness into her warmth as he bites her shoulder to muffle his groan. His hold is almost bruising.

For a moment, he forgets that he is anything but hers. Forgets that they are anything but each other’s, caught up in a web of messes and heartbreaks.

He forgets, until Sakura’s arms slip around him once more, her soft, heartbreaking sobs puffing against him in a way that makes him swallow. The glow of his release fades, anguish settling in as it was. Closing his eyes, Sasuke holds her, rubs the back of her neck. His throat grows tight again; he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what.

_(doesn’t even know if she wants him to, either.)_

So he decides to wait, give her a little more time.

Regret finds him instantly when a knock sounds at the door half a minute later, shattering the moment. Sasuke curses under his breath, red rising in his chest.

“Whoever it is,” he growls, trying—but failing—to keep his frustration from coloring his tone, “I’m _busy_ —”

But he finds his words cut off as Sakura shakes her head and moves to climb off of him, wiping her tears and quickly fixing herself. Too stunned to even move, Sasuke is forced to simply stare as she gives him a half-whispered thanks and heads out of his office, never looking back.

A short silence takes place… and then the knocking is back, louder and faster and just a little more forceful, snapping him out of his stupor. Heart quickening, Sasuke mulls his lips and tucks himself away, running a hand through his hair as he tells his visitor to come in. His jaw cinches when he sees Naruto and Kakashi enter, features holding a mix of anger and concern.

Damnit.

Sasuke isn’t stupid—he knows this looks bad. He is dishevelled, his office smells of sex and sweat, and Sakura has just walked out of here looking unkempt, but most of all upset.

Naruto fumes. “You—What the _fuck_ , Sasuke!”

“Naruto, calm down—”

“ _Calm down_? Kakashi, are you serious? Did you even _see_ her? She’s torn apart and he— _fucking hell_ , how long have you two—”

“We didn’t mean for this happen,” Sasuke snaps, eyes narrowed and sharp, glowering down at his friend. He won’t stand for any wild speculation to take place—Naruto should know better than to think they’d been screwing each other for years behind their backs. “I don’t know why Sakura is upset, but it isn’t because we…” He trails out, and snaps his mouth shut. Takes a moment to consider his words. “I’m not trying to use her. I didn’t _want_ for things to turn out the way that they did. And not that it’s any of your fucking business but it’s only like this because we haven’t had the chance to talk about it.”

In return, Naruto and Kakashi are quiet. They exchange something of a sympathetic look, of which Sasuke entirely ignores.

He doesn’t need their help, or their advice. But if this keeps happening, and he and Sakura can’t manage to sit down and figure this thing out, there will be nothing anyone can do to fix their broken relationship.

.

.

For the next two hours, Sasuke inadvertently neglects his duties, unable to stop his mind from stewing on the particularities of his and Sakura’s earlier encounter. He finds himself conflicted; he wants to give Sakura the space and time she deserves, as he knows he would have liked for himself—but there is a need to care for her, to make up for the ignorance she’d faced from him for far too long, and it nags him like a burning itch.

He needs to know what happened, to know what has hurt her so much. To see if there is anything he can do, or if there is anyone to be held accountable. To… hold her if she cries.

_(please don’t, please don’t—it hurts so much to see it.)_

The last thing he wants to do is simply stand back and do nothing. It would kill him—especially when it’s been years since he’s seen Sakura this upset.

_(and maybe, he hopes, he can also address the impulsive lovemaking that has taken place in these past two days—because silence and time have proven incapable of fixing anything between them through these past five years, and sasuke would sooner gauge his own eyes out than let that go on.)_

So with a mull of his lips, Sasuke stands, and takes his leave, draping his Hokage robes by the door on his way out.

.

.

She isn’t alone when he arrives, much to Sasuke’s dismay; though a little muffled by the door and the sound of Sakura’s sobs, Ino’s voice is unfortunately distinguishable as ever. His brows furrow.

“—not your fault, Sakura,” he overhears as his hand rises to touch the knob. He pauses, uncertain he should intrude. “You can’t blame yourself for her death. What more could you have possibly done? We might be able to stitch people’s wounds back together and pull poison out of organs but—gods, as much as we’d all like for it to exist, there’s no cure for _cancer_. There’s not a single other doctor or medic in the world who could have—”

“You just don’t understand, Ino!” Sakura wailed. “I’ve been—I _was_ treating her since she was _two_. It’s been six years! Six years I gave her hope, I helped her add months to her life that no one ever thought she’d have! _Six years_. I operated on her for every single surgery she had, cancer removal and transplants—I was with her through _everything_. And then one day her body just… just gave out?”

She makes a sound here, and it squeezes at his chest; something like a sob amidst a whimper, as though getting choked up by a thought. His hand tightens around the nob.

“I pushed her too hard,” he hears Sakura go on, hiccupping and sniveling as she seemingly tries to keep from crying. She can’t. “I thought she could handle another surgery, Ino, but I—It’s all my fault. It’s all _my fault_ that she—”

Sakura breaks down here, crying out like she has never been angrier at herself. It hurts to listen, and it makes his teeth grit, but thankfully, her sobs quickly become muffled. Sasuke guesses—hopes—that it’s because Ino has wrapped her arms around her, as he knows he would have had it been him in the room.

This isn’t the time, he thinks, as he turns around to leave. Sakura’s clearly got too much on her plate right now, and she doesn’t need to deal with her teammate-who-once-could-have-been-more trying to do better by her. Or them. Whatever the fuck they are. 

Not today, anyway.

.

.

When he sleeps, he dreams of how things could have gone. Dreams of coming to her office and finding her alone, catching her off guard with her cheeks wet with sorrow. She’s pretty, as she always is—even when she looks like this. Even when her eyes are so swollen and red, as she hiccups and grimaces with every whimper she tries to keep in. She’s beautiful.

He dreams of thumbing away her tears, drawing her against his form. Dreams that she stiffens, gasps… and then breaks, so grievously. Sakura sobs, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tells him everything that has gone wrong lately, everything that has been weighing down on her. She buries her face in his throat, feeling safe and soothed in the warmth that his arms offer… and then tells him that she loves him, that she’s missed him.

In his dream, Sasuke kisses her, pulls her down on the tiny couch she keeps in her office. He makes love to her sweetly, murmuring back those same three words in her ear, intertwining their fingers. Sakura clings to him, calls his name, moaning with all her adoration—

And then he wakes; suddenly, brutally. Hard as rock and drenched with sweat. Closing his eyes, Sasuke falls back into his pillows with a groan.

Somehow, he doesn’t think things would have gone that easy.

.

.

To his great surprise, Sasuke sees her next on the following morning. Though her eyes still hold some remnants of a tearful night, and though she appears unable to meet his gaze right now, Sakura already looks to be doing much better than last evening, and it brings him a small sense of relief. He swallows against his suddenly dry throat.

“Sakura,” he says, nodding in acknowledgement to her presence. Yet when he does, Sasuke abruptly realizes that he doesn’t know what else to say.

What could he say? That he didn’t expect to see her? That he thought she would be at home? No, that sounded cold—like he believed her too weak and hysterical, neither of which she was. Then again, he didn’t think he should be asking her how she felt, either, lest she not want to talk about it… but it wasn’t really any better to act like these past few days had never happened, was it?

Lips thinning, he curls his fingers against the edge of his desk. His mouth parts, intending to say something but having absolutely no idea what, and in that moment, Sakura speaks.

“Sasuke-kun,” she starts, eyes still downcast, “about yesterday… I’m—I’m sorry about what happened. I wasn’t—”

Their gazes lock then, and she loses her words. She freezes up, breath hitching, and grips her files tighter to herself, flushing red—as though caught in a memory. Sasuke’s need flares with life at the sight; he knows without a doubt that she’s just thought about how she’d ridden him in that very chair barely half a day ago.

He’s up to his feet before he even realizes, eyes narrowed with a brimming heat as he draws her in by a hold of her hip and kisses her, free hand moving to cup her jaw. When Sakura doesn’t hesitate to respond, his heart stutters, jumps, makes him push her back. She hits the wall, gasping, and wraps her arms around his neck. Sasuke slides a hand beneath her shirt, groaning at the softness he finds. The sound she makes in response makes his head reel, and he kisses her harder, both hands dropping to hike her legs around his hips.

Blood burning desire guiding his body, he carries them both to his desk. Sasuke drops her against it, mouth leaving a path of hot, wet kisses down her jaw and the sensitive skin of her neck. He bares his teeth as she calls his name and opens her legs wider, biting fervently at her collar. The papers are shoved off in the next instant, body fitting to her warmth; he does his best not to rip her pants and underwear off, jaw tightening as he finds her already slick center.

“Shit,” he mutters, slipping a finger into her. She bucks into his touch, so he adds in another, catching her moan against his mouth. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“Sasuke-kun,” she whines, so he starts to move, fucking her the way he hopes she wants and seemed to like that first time he touched her. She calls his name again, but this time it’s higher, more breathless. Fuck. _Fuck_. Sasuke grunts, moves to suck at her pulse. Refrains from the urge to dive a hand into his pants and relieve some tension, like his mind so desperately screams at him to.

Sakura takes care of that problem by reaching to undo his slacks herself, uncharacteristically uncoordinated hands struggling to free him before she oh so blissfully wraps her hand around his cock, squeezing with just enough strength to make his breath catch. His chest rumbles, half with a groan and half with a growl. He pulls his hand away from her warmth to fold around her own, guiding her for a few delicious strokes. _Gods_ , he thinks for the barest moment, how is it possible that he can feel both so drunk-in-love and drunk-in-lust?

“Please,” Sakura begs him, snapping him from his haze of bliss. “I need you—I need you right now, Sasuke-kun…”

Sasuke makes a sound, something of an agreement mixed with a broken patience; he roughly pushes down his pants, brings her closer to the end of his cluttered desk, and holds her gaze as he cradles her cheek, slowly fitting himself inside of her. His stomach flutters as they both release the breath they’d been holding when their hips meet, mouth capturing her own in a slow, hot kiss. She gasps and digs her nails into his shoulders as he readjusts the angle of her hips, drawing a strained groan from him.

He can’t explain the level of intimacy that settles over them when he starts to thrust inside. Faster than his heart wants to, but slow enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s just fucking her. Sakura clings to him, kisses him; whispers his name and brings him to life with her quiet moans. Sasuke feels his heart expand, small noises tumbling from his throat. He buries his face in her neck, running his hands over her sides. He doesn’t ever want this to end, wants to stay here forever—feeling so impossibly full and heavy with the sweetest adoration, in the arms of he only one he’s ever loved.

_(and he wonders, for a brief moment, if sakura feels the same. if the emotions and the passion are just as overwhelming on her side… or if his desperation is the cause.)_

And then Sakura’s hand dips down between them, and Sasuke’s pace stutters, breaks. Loses its rhythm to something wild. He pants, drops his hands to her ass, and seeks her lips with his own, mind wanting nothing but the sweet, sweet promise of relief. He finds it at Sakura’s keening cry, hips grinding tensely as he spills himself within her, snatching out to grasp and hold at a quivering thigh. _Fuck_. So good.

Still teetering from his high, Sasuke thinks he hears her whisper a confession, but he’s not entirely sure when his brain is still struggling to catch base with reality.

“I—I need to go,” she says a moment later, pushing forcefully at his chest to get him to back off.

Stumbling back, Sasuke stares dumbly for a few beats, watching as she hurriedly pulls on her bottoms with shaking hands. His mind only catches up to him as she steps over the fallen files and papers, moving quickly out of his office.

“Sakura, wait—”

But she is already out the door.

Jaw clenching tight, Sasuke furrows his brows furiously. He slams his fist against his desk, rattling it.

 _Fucking damnit_.

.

.

A few hours later, when he tries to send out a summon for Sakura, Sasuke learns through Shikamaru that she has just left on a mission not ten minutes ago. He nearly hurls his cup of coffee at the ground.

“A mission?” he snarls, free hand curling into a fist as he looks up to his assistant. His glare is savage; he’s had enough of these godforsaken, untimely hindrances. “When the hell did she get one? And why wasn’t I informed?”

Shikamaru’s brows knit deeply. He gives Sasuke an odd look. “You were informed,” he states, slowly. “Weeks ago. Don’t you remember? You looked over the scroll yourself, said Sakura was the best for the job, and requested she be the first to know about it.”

Fuck. That’s right, Sasuke thinks. The Shimogakure mission—the one about the flu outbreak. How could he have forgotten?

“Are you okay?” his assistant asks, then, bracing a hand on his hip.

Sasuke’s jaw clenches. Forcing his gaze back to the papers on his desk, he returns to his work. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sasuke—you’ve been cranky, lately.”

“So what? Am I supposed to let the sun shine right out of my ass like Naruto? I’m tired, I haven’t been sleeping worth shit since my inauguration, and everyone’s always chasing after me for some reason or another that usually isn’t important—so fucking sue me if I’m not in a good mood every day.”

“Or ever,” Shikamaru mutters, earning himself a most ferocious glare from the Hokage. He sighs, and waves him off. “Nevermind—didn’t mean to intrude. Sorry I asked,” he says, as he begins to walk out of the room. “I’ll be back later for the reports.”

Don’t bother, Sasuke scorns in his thoughts, even as he reminds himself that it _is_ part of Shikamaru’s job to collect and deliver information. Whether he likes it or not, he will have to see him again today. Sasuke mulls his lips.

Why can’t the world just let him and Sakura be? Why can’t they just have one fucking moment to talk to each other? Maybe if they did, he wouldn’t be such a goddamn asshole right now.

He just wants some time to breathe.

.

.

Sasuke doesn’t see her for five weeks.

His mood becomes so rotten that before long, the whole village is talking about him, whispering even as he passes by. Rumors fly, but Sasuke pays them no mind, because what the fuck do they know? They can speculate for all he cares—all he wants is for Sakura to come home.

So he sits, and he waits, counting the days until she’s due to return.

.

.

It’s on a late Tuesday night that Sakura comes back. Sasuke is asleep at his desk, head lolled back into his chair, worn from a long day. He wakes to the feel of kisses on his jaw and throat—hot yet strangely gentle—and a warm weight against his lap. His body stiffens instantly.

“What the fu—” he starts to growl, but his words fail him as he spots too-familiar pink. Sasuke’s eyes widen. His breath catches, hands that had previously been ready to drive off his assailant now steadying against her hips. “Sakura—?”

A thin finger presses to his lips, and he stops. His heart pounds as her free hand slips to the side of his neck, her soft mouth moving to capture his own.

“Shh,” she whispers, cupping both sides of his neck to kiss him better. Sasuke stares, mind fogging up a daze as she deepens her affections, rubbing a thumb to his throat. His blood begins to ignite. “Don’t talk. We don’t need to talk. Let’s just enjoy this, all right?”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Chest rumbling, Sasuke fists her shirt into his hands and starts to move his mouth in time with hers, relishing in the sound she makes. He pulls and tugs at the material of her clothes, tries to draw her closer, dizziness rushing over him. But something nags at him, holds him back—why shouldn’t they be doing this? He can’t remember anymore. Not when she’s flushed against him like this, so good and willing and needy, full of passion and full of lo—

Oh, that’s right, he thinks, muddle-minded; pulling away sharply, his wide gaze sets on her own, staring at those green, green eyes that he loves so much. Fucking hell, how could he forget again? She doesn’t know what these encounters mean to him. Because he keeps getting lost to his stupid lust, Sakura doesn’t think that this is more to him than just sex.

_(but it is. and it always has been, and it always will be—she has never been just a place to put his dick in, just a tool for him to use to unwind from all this stress. she has always been so much more than that.)_

Yet as he goes to say something, Sasuke finds himself once more making the same senseless mistake _(so foolish, so selfish, when is he ever going to learn?)_ as he feels her hand drop down to his straining trousers, squeezing lightly. The touch effectively kills any words ready to spill from his lips. His mouth dries, fingers digging firmly into her skin as Sakura dips her lips to his neck, leaving a hot, wet path towards his chest. Fuck. He swallows when she slips to the ground. She settles comfortably between his legs, fumbling with the opening of his pants. He grits his teeth. Damnit.

Sasuke doesn’t know how he manages to hold any type of restraint as she smiles at him then, taking his half-stiff cock in her hands. He holds his breath as she moves, gentle fingers curling along the length of him to press and pump, causing him wonder how in the hell she can sit there doing _that_ and still manage to only make his heart flutter like it does now.

_(how is it that he wants to both fuck her brains out and gently push her down to make love to her? how is it that she can fill him with this unbridled need just as much as she can fill him with the sweetest adoration at the same damn time? is this what love is like for everyone else? for her? or is this the result of pushing back his feelings for years, repressing all the desire and affection he ever had for her to make their complicated relationship into something less awkward?)_

Soft lips wrap around him, and Sasuke tenses, losing track of reality for a single moment. He can’t help the curse that falls out.

“Shit,” he groans, eyes sliding shut as his head tips back. Fucking hell, he wasn’t expecting her mouth to feel this good; so soft and slickened, almost just as warm as he remembers that spot between her legs.

This can’t be real, can it? Sasuke muses, everything around him blurring as Sakura works to lift and lower her head over him. He threads his fingers through her hair carefully, lips parting as she uses her hand to stroke whatever left of him she can’t reach. No, he had to be dreaming—Sakura would never surprise him like this after coming back from her mission. Not when they were so… messily involved.

_(…or would she?)_

Teeth scraping against the sensitive head of his dick snaps him out of his daze, and he hisses, harshly tightening his hold on her locks without meaning to. Sakura pulls away quickly, whispering a meek, earnest apology. But Sasuke doesn’t miss her wince, and he gentles his touch, meaning to say he’s sorry, too—only she doesn’t give him the chance, enclosing the tip of his cock in her mouth once more. He makes a sound that is half-strangled as she sucks, licks, rubbing a hand over his thigh as though she means to soothe him. The dizziness comes rushing back. Struggling to keep himself anchored, Sasuke whispers her name.

_(holy fuck. holy fuck, holy fuck, holy **fuck** —)_

His pre-cum dribbles, and Sakura gives a slight jump, pulling away with a curious look. Feeling his neck flush, he feels the urge to avert his gaze as understanding dawns to her face. But he doesn’t, and only pants softly, watching as she shifts her eyes to his and gives him a smile he’s never seen before. Sasuke learns exactly why that is when she smooths her lips over his tip and laps at the fluid, moaning softly.

_(no, this is real. this is very, very **real** , and she’s here, between his legs and doing **this** —)_

His control snaps.

Hauling her up to her feet, Sasuke growls something like a savage and roughly manipulates her body into bending over his desk, eyes wild as he just about—but not quite—rips off the clothes on her bottom half. He groans when he slips inside of her, tongue brushing the skin of neck at the cry she lets out. Biting down, he forces himself to stay still, taking a moment to absorb the way that she feels and the way that she looks, wrapped around him like this. Gods, she’s so _wet_. He has to thank whatever deity is out there; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her because he wasn’t able to keep his patience.

_(but gods, does it kill him—she must have **really** enjoyed sucking him off so much.)_

“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura gasps then, grabbing hold of one of his hips with iron strength as she whines and attempts to pull him closer. It doesn’t work. “Oh gods, I— _please_ , I need—”

Slamming her wrist back against his desk, Sasuke loses all traces of the discipline he just had and begins to snap his hips up into her, frenzied with the desire to give her exactly what she wants. His vision blurs white at the sound she makes in return, tearing a groan from his throat. He seizes the plump flesh of her ass, cock throbbing as he builds an even more unforgiving rhythm. He nearly lets himself come at the way she moans, pushing back into him while she quivers and pulses around him with the most exquisite pressure. Fucking hell, he hopes he can last.

One of his arms snakes around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Sasuke mouths at the back of her neck, puffing choppy breaths against her skin. Fuck, he’s so close. His eyes slip shut, teeth gritting impossibly as he nuzzles her soft, rosy hair.

“Sakura,” he pants, tightening his hold on her.

No doubt sensing his fast-approaching limit, Sakura whimpers and shifts against him, reaching back to grab a hold of his hip once more; she flinches as she widens her thighs and rolls back against him, keening a pitched noise that makes him feel primitive. It doesn’t take long at this angle before she comes, squeezing his own orgasm out of him. He grinds out his high with another bite to her neck, sighing as he spills the last of himself into her.

The last thing Sasuke expects to feel is her hand sliding down between them to touch where they are joined. His mouth runs dry, softening dick twitching as she brushes against the base of him and whines.

“More…” she moans, biting her lip. “I need—I need you to do that again, Sasuke-kun…”

 _I need you to fuck me more,_ he could hear her say.

It’s all it takes to have him pulling out and flipping her around, hands finally shoving off the clothes still hanging on to her legs before hooking her thighs around his hips. Slowly, deeply, he kisses her, feeling her arms wrap around his neck. Drawing him closer, Sakura kisses him back, moving with twice the fervor, making him dizzy with passion. Sasuke takes this as an opportunity to lift her up and carry her to the adjoined bedroom, eager to pursue things there—but he loses patience barely half a dozen steps away, pushing her back instead against the cool, large glass window overlooking the village.

Luckily, Sakura doesn’t seem to mind; she is busied instead with pressing hot little kisses to the line of his jaw, greedy fingers tugging impatiently at the hem of his shirt. Sasuke obliges all too willingly, making quick work of his Hokage robe and dark grey top, a groan straining to slip out as her warm hands hungrily run over his heated flesh. Fuck, he really wishes he didn’t need a while before he could get hard again.

“Sasuke-kun,” she moans, and the sound is so needy that he finds himself moving to his knees.

Letting his instincts leads him, Sasuke widens her thighs, brushes his lips against the smooth skin on the inside. Sakura’s breath hitches, and he almost smiles. Clearly, he’s doing _something_ right.

_(though what that is, he’s not quite sure—was this even a thing people really did?)_

Pushing the thought away, Sasuke kisses her there again, breathes in her musky scent, feeling his head spin and spin in a most sinful way. Gods, he wants to taste her. He doesn’t even care if she’s probably dripping with his own cum—he just wants his mouth and tongue on her.

Giving a low, throaty growl, Sasuke sinks his teeth zealously into her thigh and hikes the other one over his shoulder, kissing the hot, wet flesh now exposed. A shiver runs up his spine at the breathless, “ _Oh_ ,” that slips from her, fingers digging deeper into her plush skin as both her hands find his hair, gently latching onto him. It makes him even more eager to explore, to map out every inch of that spot between her legs.

So he does just that.

He’s likely not the best at this, he suspects _(if there is a best)_ , but he is doing well enough if her shaking and whimpering are anything to go by, and that pleases him. Lips twitching against her, Sasuke lets his lover guide his mouth where she needs it most, welcoming any tip to her pleasure. Feeling himself grow hard again, he works and caresses her with even more vigor, lets himself savor the taste of her a little longer, moans and gasps working their way under his skin until he’s burning and _burning_ —

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Sakura cries, then, fingers twisting sharply in his hair. “Sasuke-kun, I’m gonna—”

Faster than even he can understand, Sasuke grips her thighs with both hands, and swiftly maneuvers her to the ground. He flips her on her hands and knees before she even has the time to gasp his name, roughly pushing down his pants. His eyes flash with something feral as Sakura spreads her legs without his asking, rubbing a place that makes her gasp.

_(needy, desperate. eager to be filled by his hard, hot co—)_

“Oh please, Sasuke-kun, _please_ —”

He slips inside her with one rough thrust, gritting his teeth at the moan she lets out, reveling in the pure nirvana of her slick, tight warmth. Holy shit, she feels so good. How could she keep surprising him like this? They’d been fucking not twenty minutes ago, and it’s like his body had already forgotten how she felt like.

Giving a few slow thrusts, Sasuke runs a hand up her back, feeling the ridges of her spine. His chest rumbles as she whines, clawing at the floor as she moves to meet him halfway. Her other hand reaches back, clinging desperately to his hip. Fuck, she’s beautiful. So damn beautiful. His heart swells so much it aches.

Lowering himself flush to her back, Sasuke buries his face in the crook of her neck and presses hot kisses to her skin, taking hold of a breast. He begins to move, at first slowly before promptly building up to sure, quick thrusts. A groan slips from his mouth—he’s already close. The hand kneading at her chest slips down, down, _down_ —and into a thatch damp curls. Sakura collapses on her elbows when he starts to stroke, in frantic circles just like he’d seen her do; perhaps not exactly where she needs it, but with enough intensity that he knows he can get her there.

“Sasuke-kun,” she pleads, half-choking on his name. He nearly comes as she peers back at him over her shoulder, her big green eyes teary and filled with the deepest bliss. “Oh god, harder, I’m gonna come—”

“Shit!” Sasuke swears, pulling himself away to brace against her hips and thrust even harder. Roughly, he growls, “Open your legs wider, Sakura. _Now_.”

She does, and she comes, quivering endlessly around his cock as she cries out his name and trembles like a leaf. Sasuke follows soon after, grinding tensely inside her with a groan, leaning down to support himself against the floor; riding out his high, he presses his forehead to her shoulder, rolling his hips slowly against her ass.

They’re nothing but a mess of hot, panting breaths after, utterly sapped of strength and shuddering from the aftermath of their peak. Worried he might be crushing her, Sasuke rolls himself at her side and onto his back, fighting to catch his wits. Sakura is quick to topple on her front afterwards, spent. He can’t help but to draw her in against him at the sight, reeling in his postcoital haze. Sakura lets him.

“If I wanted to make you my assistant,” he murmurs after a while, “would you accept?”

He feels her stop breathing entirely. “…What?”

Letting out a content sigh, Sasuke tucks her sweaty hair back. He feels so full. “We could see each other more. With everything I have on my schedule, I don’t know if—”

Tearing herself away from him, Sakura gives him an indignant glare. Blinking quickly, Sasuke watches as she pushes herself to her feet, picks up her clothes, and angrily puts them on. His mouth parts to say something, but she beats him to it with snappish words.

“I have a _job_ already, Sasuke-kun!” she says. “I’m not just going to drop the career I’ve built for myself and that I’m _happy_ with just so you can have me at your beck and call whenever you feel like fucking me!”

Sasuke flinches, only now realizing how his words had sounded. Shit, he didn’t mean to say that—

“Sakura, no, wait, I wasn’t thinking—”

She slams the door shut, and he is left in silence. Sasuke stares, taking a moment to process that _once again_ , she has left his office without giving him a single chance to explain himself.

“Fuck!” he roars, throwing the nearing thing within grabbing distance. The book tumbles a few feet away, the back cover snapped off.

Putting his arm over his face, Sasuke grits his teeth. If only he’d fucking thought about how his words would come across before offering something like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hereby declare this fic renamed to: yours, forevermore - chronicles of the orgasm stupid Hokage. LMFAO.


	5. Chapter 5

Sasuke visits Konoha’s burial grounds before the sun has even begun to rise that morning, tired of the constant tossing and turning in the bed of the Hokage suite. There had been no benefit to staying any longer, no rest or peace of mind to be found—so if sleep would not come, he was better off putting what time he had to good use.

_(gods know he never has enough of it, these days.)_

It had been too long since he last came to his family’s graves, anyway.

Sighing, Sasuke lightly touches his older brother’s headstone as he reaches the familiar site, closing his eyes. Miss you more than words can say, he thinks, as he always does. After a moment, he pulls away and kneels down at his parent’s graves, offering them both a singular flower; a white chrysanthemum for his father, and a white lily for his mother. He bows his head to offer a few silent prayers.

When he is done, Sasuke lets himself smile a little, soft, small, and somewhat sad. He shifts to sit down comfortably beside Itachi’s tombstone.

“I’m late, I know,” he says, breathing in the early morning air and setting his gaze on the orange-pinkish horizon. The sun is finally getting up. “Sorry, niisan. I guess I understand why you couldn’t always hold your promise.”

But he doesn’t go on, and he lets silence take over instead, watching as the sun continues to rise, starts to warm the air. Sasuke sighs, eyes dropping shut once more. A heaviness surrounds him, but it’s far from unpleasant, he finds. He lets himself believe that it’s because the spirits of his family have come, summoned by his stressed, frustrated heart to hold and support him in this too-complicated time.

Letting their comfort wash over, Sasuke feels the tension in him ease, dwindle. Gods, he wishes his mother would really be here. Wishes she could tell him what to do, what to say. He’s sure she would know.

_(more than his father and brother would, anyway. he doubts either of them would be particularly more skilled in the matters of the heart—father had always been too busy trying to lead their clan to a better future, and itachi had always been too busy being the council’s tool of destruction.)_

Pensive, Sasuke wonders what his family would say if they could see the situation he was in right now. Mother would probably bonk him over the head and call him a dense idiot, he muses with a smile. But then she’d also hug him, kiss his cheek, offer him some wise words of wisdom. The opposite of Father, whom of course, would disapprove entirely. And Itachi…

Itachi would undeniably march him to Sakura’s door, demand that he tell her everything—whatever the hour it was. There would be no excuses with him, no justifying how long it was taking to make things right. He would march him all the way to the hospital, to her parents’ house, or over the village borders, if he had to.

Itachi wouldn’t let him fuck this up anymore.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he hears someone say, then, causing him to stiffen rigidly.

Sasuke turns his head over his shoulder. His gaze narrows as he sees his old sensei carrying a small bouquet of flowers. “What are you doing here?”

Kakashi frowns. “It’s my father’s birthday. I think I’m allowed to visit his grave.”

“It’s early.”

“You’re not the only one who has trouble getting rest, Sasuke.”

Mulling his lips, Sasuke keeps his mouth shut, and turns back to the brightening sky ahead. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with his ex-teacher.

_(because truth is, these days, it’s not so much that he has trouble sleeping—he just doesn’t seem to have the time. or maybe he just has trouble managing it.)_

Behind him, Kakashi sighs. Sasuke hears him start walking towards him, and clenches his jaw. Can’t he just be alone?

“You should think about getting new guards.”

Sasuke blinks. “What?”

“Your ANBUs—the ones you’re obligated to have watch you around the clock. You should request for new ones—or at least find out which ones you can really trust.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

At this, Kakashi gives him a look. Sasuke doesn’t understand it, but it makes his heart sink with dread for a reason he can’t explain.

That is, until:

“I heard three of your ANBUs gossiping when I was heading out of my home earlier. Whispering to each other in the middle of the street how they were glad their shift was finally over because of the _things_ that they had been awkwardly forced to witness in your office today.”

Sasuke tenses impossibly. Shit—he hadn’t even thought about that. Of course his guards would have to be bystanders to this whole damn mess. He feels the back of his neck heat up. Fucking hell.

_(indeed, he is going to need new guards—ones that won’t breach the contracted rules of upholding privacy. he needs to find out who the culprits are.)_

“Sasuke… you said this was going on because you hadn’t talked about it yet,” Kakashi goes on, then. He’s so quiet, so clearly deprecating, and it makes his blood boil. “How can you not have worked this out by now? It’s been _five weeks_ —”

Angry from both the betrayal of his ANBUs and everyone’s persistent cursed nosiness, Sasuke cuts him off with a snarl. “And how many times do I have to say that it’s none of your fucking business? Stay out of it, Kakashi—this doesn’t concern you.”

Kakashi glares at him—something that catches Sasuke by surprise. He doesn’t usually lose his temper like this.

“It concerns me that you are tearing each other apart, Sasuke,” he says, his tone low but somehow still frighteningly chilling. “So stop being so goddamn stupid and _talk_ to her already.”

And with that, he walks away, leaving Sasuke to swallow down any resentful retorts.

Sasuke digs his hands into the grass. It kills him to admit that though his ex-teacher is nosy and overstepping, he is also right.

No more screwing around.

.

.

“Ogino.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama?”

“Get me the names of the ANBUs who were on guard duty last night.”

“Right away, sir.”

.

.

He decides to let a week pass by before ultimately doing anything, allowing Sakura some space to cool off from their last encounter. Resolute as he is on finally repairing their complicated, splintered relationship, Sasuke doubts Sakura would like to hear anything he has to say when hours earlier, he’d thoughtlessly asked her to leave a job she loved.

_(something that still makes him want to groan—it’s one of the dumbest things he’s ever done.)_

But he doesn’t let that time go to waste; every day, he works tirelessly on filing papers and conducting meetings, eager to free his schedule to ensure he would have no pressing responsibilities holding him back. He sets himself on making a permanent change: he can’t take back what he’s done, but he can start making his own time for the people that he loves, and put an end to this toxic habit of sacrificing everything for a singular goal. Finding justice for his family is important, yes, but so is Sakura Haruno. He can find a balance, from now on. He can keep the village safe and happy, reform the system, bring respect to the Uchiha clan—and he can make a life with Sakura, be the good partner she deserves to have at her side.

And it all starts here, by finally granting himself the right not to comply to every request sent his way. And also, delegating.

“Hokage-sama?”

Eyes flickering up from the previously sealed mission report at his desk, Sasuke raises a brow when he sees his young, brown-haired second assistant peeking unsurely from his door.

_(because yes, he had finally caved to hiring someone else, pride be damned. though almost annoyingly too meek, the woman really was unworldly good at her job—appointing her was the best decision he’d made all year.)_

Sasuke gestures her inside. “What is it?”

“Um…” Looking down at the floor, she tucks a fallen lock of hair behind her ear, and Sasuke knows then that he isn’t going to like what she will say. “The council is waiting outside your office. They’re requesting a meeting now—”

“Fuck no,” Sasuke immediately replies, interrupting her as his eyes narrow. He huffs an irritated breath, and returns to the classified scroll at hand. “Send them away,” he says. “And tell them to call and schedule a meeting like everyone else. I have other plans today, and I aim to keep them.”

“B-But sir, I don’t think—”

“I don’t care, Uzume. They’re not the ones who have to bury themselves in work on a daily basis, nor are they the ones who make the final decisions around here. I am the Hokage—they are merely my advisors. They will work with _my_ schedule. Tell them they will wait until a suitable time, or I will have them escorted out of this office.”

Wide-eyed, his assistant blushes—more out of nervousness than embarrassment, he suspects—and then nods jerkily. She gives him a quick, polite bow. “Ah—of course, Hokage-sama,” she stutters, quickly stepping towards the filing cabinet. She drops a massive pile of completed forms on top. “Um, please excuse me.”

Then she disappears from his office to deliver the news, seemingly uncomfortable. Sasuke thinks it’s probably because she fears disrespecting the elders.

He goes back to work, and ignores the ensuing muffled conversation behind the door.

_(although, he will admit, he feels oddly pleased as the voices start to grow in volume, exclamations of irritation and contempt becoming more and more distinct. that will teach them.)_

Sasuke only pauses again when someone tries to enter anyway; the door jiggles for half a moment before, judging by the light rustling and surrendering cries, the perpetrator is seemingly stopped.

“All right, all right!” a man snaps, sounding suspiciously like Homura. His tone is dripping with sharp irritation. “There is no need to get physical—we will take our leave without you. Uncultured brats… Come, Council, we will come back another time when our _leader_ isn’t in such a foul mood.”

Try when you have an actual appointment, Sasuke thinks, rolling his eyes.

It’s a few minutes before his assistant comes back inside, looking rather stunned. Sasuke spares her only a flickering glance, still contemplating the report.

“The guards did their job, I take it?”

Uzume’s eyes are still wide. “Uh… yes, Hokage-sama.”

He gives her a small, pleased nod. “Make sure to let them know I want no more interruptions. I intend to leave in an hour.”

She nods, too, and bows again. “Okay—um, I mean, right away, Hokage-sama. I’ll… I’ll be back later to file those papers as well.”

Sasuke hums, and the sound of her clicking heels resound across his office. He stops his assistant only when he hears her click open the door. “Uzume.”

“Y-Yes?”

He nearly sighs. “Good work today.”

Her voice reveals an undeniable smile. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

No, it’s you I should thank, Sasuke thinks. For cutting down my work and giving me time to get my life together.

Today is the day.

.

.

An hour later, when he gathering his things, he sends his hawk Takauji with a scroll for Sakura.

_Sakura,_

_Meet me at my apartment in two hours._

_We need to see each other. It’s important._

_I know you don’t have a shift at the hospital._

_Sasuke_

.

.

Sakura arrives at his door twenty minutes early, turning the grim expression on his face to one of genuine surprise; he expected her to be late, if anything. Sasuke’s mouth parts, but he closes it quickly, resting his towel on his shoulder. He’d just gotten out of the shower a short while ago.

“Hi,” she says, softly, looking strangely fragile despite still being so lovely. There is a weakness to her gaze that he doesn’t like.

His heart squeezes, and Sasuke swallows. They really are tearing each other apart like this, he muses. Sakura is so much stronger than that.

_(but no longer—he will break her no longer._

_…or soon, anyway.)_

Exhaling a slow, quiet breath, Sasuke lets the tension in him leave. He gives Sakura a nod. “You’re early,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to be early.” There is no displeasure to his tone. Only relief.

Sakura blushes faintly. “I know,” she mumbles, as she looks down at her feet. She seems almost flustered—or even conflicted. Sasuke hasn’t seen her this insecure since she was a young teenager. He hates how much he’s making her pedal backwards. “I just…”

He doesn’t need to hear more. Stepping aside, Sasuke opens the door wider; a silent invitation. Looking up, Sakura blinks at him, swallows, then acquiesces to his offer.

He doesn’t expect her to push him back a few steps and kiss him as soon as she crosses the threshold, one hand tossing his towel away while the other fists his shirt, foot driving the door shut. Sasuke’s breath snags in his lungs, body growing tight. Half a moment later, he finds himself melting against her, utterly overtaken; he draws her close, kisses her back, curling his fingers into her clothes. Her kisses are both hot and wanton as they are sweet and full of yearning, and it makes his head spin.

But then Sakura tugs at his shirt, pulling at the hem like she needs it off, and Sasuke frowns. His thoughts come rushing back to him. No… no, he can’t let this happen again. Not before they talk things out, put everything out in the open—no matter how much she sends his whole body buzzing.

His hands close around her wrists.

“Sakura,” he whispers against her lips, trying to gently tug her away. He hates how much his body screams to get her back, needing her warmth, her closeness. “Sakura, stop. We can’t. This isn’t why I wanted you to come here.”

“It’s okay,” she says, breathless, pulling him close. She kisses him once more, reaching under his shirt to caress his skin. Sasuke tenses, a groan nearly slipping out of him. “It’s okay. I want this too, Sasuke-kun. There’s nothing wrong with this—”

“Sakura—”

“It’s all right.” One of her hands falls to his belly, tracing the faint ridges there. His mind is starting to fog again. Damnit. “Please, Sasuke-kun. I—I need this. _You_ need this.”

“Sakura, this isn’t—”

“Shh,” she hushes, catching his mouth with hers and kissing him deeper. “We don’t need to talk about it. We can keep doing this. We don’t have to stop. _Please_.”

The hand on his stomach slides beneath the hem of his pants, so close to where he wants her. Sasuke almost chokes, feeling himself spiral. Sharply, he pulls back, deftly slipping away from her too-wonderful fingers. Breaths heavy and choppy, he swallows against his suddenly dry throat, body burning everywhere. Holy shit that was close.

Hurt splinters across Sakura’s face, a few seconds later. The sight keeps him anchored, reminds them why they’re here. Sasuke sighs quietly.

“We do need to talk, Sakura,” he murmurs. “Everything about this is fucked up. All those weeks ago, when we—” He pauses here, and mulls his lips. He looks down. He still doesn’t know how to explain that day. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. Things got out of hand. I never meant—”

A wounded noise cuts him off, and Sasuke flinches, eyes settling on Sakura again. He finds her face all scrunched up, mouth twisted as though she wants to cry. She curls a hand protectively over her chest.

“Stop. Please stop, Sasuke-kun,” she pleads, and her voice wavers, cracks. There are tears glimmering now. “I’m begging you—I can’t hear this. I can’t. My heart can’t take this.”

His throat grows tight. Gods, how he wishes he would stop making her cry. Wishes he would stop breaking her heart, wishes he could wrap his arms around her right now and kiss away all her pain. But he can’t. He really can’t. He needs to keep trying, to finally explain to her how he wants so much more than this—how he wants _everything_ , and not just that warm space between her legs.

Sasuke touches her arm gently. “Sakura, listen…”

But Sakura doesn’t want to hear it.

“ _No_!” she wails. She wrenches herself away so fast his heart skips a painful beat. “I’m done doing this with you, Sasuke-kun! I’m done getting pulled in every direction and getting my hopes up, only for you totear them down! Done being the only one hurt every time you fleetingly grow some kind of conscience!” She’s trembling now, thick tears spilling down her angry cheeks as she seemingly struggles not to burst into loud, miserable sobs. “I’ve loved you for over _ten years_ now, Sasuke-kun. _Ten years_. And I am _tired_ of getting my heart broken because you can’t get yourself together…

“I don’t want to wait for the impossible anymore. I don’t want to keep hoping you might realize that you want me by your side, or that you might want a life with me. It hurts too much, Sasuke-kun. I’ve already let myself believe it once, when you kissed me all those years ago, but then—then you treated us like we were _nothing_ and I—” A sob escapes her, then, soft and broken and unbearably hard to hear. It takes everything in Sasuke not to look away from her. “When you kissed me again all those weeks ago, I was the closest to you than I’ve been in years, Sasuke-kun… I felt like I finally mattered to you—like I knew I did, once. Even if it was just for this.” Her lower lip trembles. “But now you want to take even that away from me…”

Sakura trails out, and cries even harder, then, so hard she gasps in every breath. Sasuke’s jaw grows rigid at the sight; he doesn’t want to stand here and do nothing anymore.

So with an aching heart clenching so terribly, terribly with every beat, Sasuke cups the face of the woman he loves and gingerly wipes her tears away, careful. Sakura shakes her head with vehemence, pushing weakly at his chest to try and drive him away—but all in vain. She crumbles against his touch, defeated and helpless. She is just as starved for his love as he is for hers, he realizes with downturn of his mouth.

_(it’s no wonder she doesn’t want him to take away what they have when she no longer thinks they will ever have anything more.)_

Pressing his forehead to her own, Sasuke gathers all the tenderness he can find and kisses her slowly, sweetly, holding her soft, precious face in his hands. He brushes his thumb to her skin as she stills, breath hitching, more tears slipping down her cheeks. He smooths them off, and kisses her once more, just as gently, cradling her trembling body in a warm embrace. Half a sob tumbles from her lips, but she kisses him back, burying her fingers in his hair in desperation.

Maybe he can show her how he feels instead, Sasuke thinks, as he lets her take off his shirt and starts guiding her towards his bedroom. Maybe if he makes love to her with all the devotion and care in his heart, she’ll understand everything.

At least, this is what he tells himself as he lets them tug off each other clothes as they go, lips never parting even as they lightly bump and knock into walls and counters. This is what he tells himself as he kisses her, touches her, keeping himself loving and patient, determined not to let lust take over. Sakura whimpers and holds him closer, hiccupping breaths fading into moans and hot little gasps.

They’re both naked by the time they reach his bed, tumbling onto the soft mattress in the darkness of the room. Dazed, needing to see her, Sasuke reaches to turn on his bedside lamp, cursing when he inadvertently knocks their old team seven frame to the floor. The sound of Sakura laughing startles him, so much that when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help his mind from going back to that time all those weeks ago, where he’d been alone in bed and craving to have her at his side.

And now she was here; naked, smiling, and utterly beautiful, with her sweet, sweet green eyes gleaming at him so brightly. Sasuke’s mouth dries, and raw emotion wells up at him, so thickly he feels nothing short of overwhelmed. He cups her cheek and kisses her with aching gentleness, eyes slipping shut tight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, earnest as he’s ever been.

He feels the smile drop from Sakura’s mouth, lips trembling against his. Sasuke swears he can _feel_ the hurt flaring to life again in her heart, but he refuses to budge as she pushes at him to try and run away.

“Don’t, _don’t_ —Sasuke-kun, don’t do this—”

She starts to cry again and pushes him harder, but Sasuke holds onto her tighter and grits his teeth, brushing his thumb to her cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Sakura—”

“Just let me leave,” she sobs, struggling against him. “Let me leave, let me leave, I can’t do this, just let me leave—”

“Damnit, Sakura, _I love you_!” Sasuke says, then, frustration getting to him as it comes out sounding sharp and much more forceful than he’d hoped.

_(but he’d said it. at least he’d finally fucking said it.)_

Sakura’s breath catches, and she stiffens beneath him. “W-What?”

Sasuke softens. “I love you. Sakura, I’ve always loved you. Since five years ago, since before even that. I never meant to hurt you the way that I did—I never meant to get so caught up in my goals that I never put you, or Naruto or Kakashi first. I threw away what we had without even realizing it because I was so focused on the responsibilities I had trying to get justice for my clan. And I wish I realized that sooner. I really fucking do. I wish I’d known how to solve everything, but I had no idea what to do. Especially not after we…” He swallows, and moves his hand to her jaw, then, stroking so devotedly. “Nothing about this has ever been just sex to me, Sakura. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I want more. I’ve always wanted more. I want… you.” _All of you. By my side. So stay, please. Stay, and I’ll never make those mistakes again. I promise._

For a moment, Sakura says nothing; she merely keeps crying, unable to stop. Yet there is a lightness to her now, a missing heaviness to the way she wipes her tears and sniffles and hiccups, and it makes the tension in him melt away.

“Y-You love me?” she asks, eventually, her voice so feeble.

But Sasuke catches it, that certain hope and fullness that makes him want to smile. He pushes his forehead to her own, running his thump over her cheek. “I do,” he whispers.

Making some noise of relief, Sakura pulls him close and hugs him tight, burying her face in his neck. Closing his eyes, Sasuke breathes in her scent and pulls her closer, finally feeling relaxed and content—like he hasn’t been able to in much too long. His heart swells in his chest when Sakura runs her hands through his hair, whispering how much she loves him, how much she’s sorry she didn’t listen to him when he was trying to make things right. Brushing his lips to her brow, Sasuke pulls back and kisses her, kissing her again, and again, and again.

He makes love to her when she asks him to, a while later, and it’s slow, and good, and wonderful. Better than any of their times before. He feels full, complete, even moreso when he knows she does, too. There is nowhere else he wants to be—he would spend forever making love to her if he could. When Sakura gets close, she whispers to him to tell her again that he loves her, so he does, once, twice, and three times more. He kisses her when she comes soon after, holding him close and whimpering his name. Sasuke swears she’s never looked more beautiful.

They stay wrapped up in each other when they’re sated and spent, whispering conversation in the dim, moonlit room. Sasuke pulls the sheets over them when Sakura shivers a little from the cold, her giggle curling the edges of his mouth. She thanks him, and kisses him like they have all the time in the world, like there is nothing they can’t face together… and he supposes that as of tonight, that is probably true.

For the rest of his life, he will make time to kiss and love Sakura like she deserves, like she wants.

For the rest of his life, he will make sure she never doubts the place she holds in his heart.

Sleep takes them within minutes, and it’s the easiest he’s had in years.

.

.

Sakura comes to find him at lunch the next day, carrying her usual stack of paperwork and two bento boxes, along with the prettiest, happiest blush. Sasuke feels his eyes brighten in an instant, lips curling in the faintest smile. He doesn’t think twice about abandoning his work for the time being.

“Hello, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura says, tucking her files to her chest. Grinning, she shows off the bento boxes. “I thought you might want to have lunch with me. I know I left in a bit of a hurry this morning… since you know, early surgery and all.”

Sasuke hums. “Hmm. Thank you,” he says, and he takes the bento boxes from her hand to put them aside on his desk. He surprises even himself when he tugs her onto his lap, next, fighting back another smile at her slight yelp. The glow from yesterday clearly still has yet to fade.

Sasuke slides a hand to her hip. He peers inside one of the bento boxes. “Onigri?”

Sakura smiles sheepishly. “Yes… I didn’t have much time when I got home. But I made your favorite kind!”

As if to prove she isn’t lying, she grabs a ball and peels a layer of rice back, revealing the flaky okaka filling. Amused, Sasuke grabs the onigri from her hand and takes a bite, chewing carefully.

“It’s good,” he offers, and Sakura smiles wider. She eats the bits on her hands, and croons with much satisfaction, happy with the fruits of her labor.

Sasuke shakes his head and smiles. “I’ll grab my stuff and we can leave.”

Beaming, Sakura pushes herself off his lap, allowing him to do just that.

It is at the moment that he stands up, however, that Shikamaru strolls in, sporting his usual look of exasperation and mouth opened to say something. He stills and chooses to refrain himself when he catches sight of them both, something of a frown forming.

Sasuke knows then that Shikamaru dreads what he is about to say. He narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Shikamaru says. He points his thumb to the door. “But we have a meeting with the other Kages starting right now. It’s about the upcoming chunnin exams.”

Fuck. That’s right. Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose. He forgot.

But as he exhales a sharp breath and goes to say that he’ll be there in a minute, his eyes briefly flicker to Sakura, sees her falter. That makes him stop.

_(because this was how it all started, back then. brushing her aside time and time again, choosing to deal with matters that weren’t always that pressing, simply because he felt it was his duty.)_

Sasuke’s gaze lightens, shoulders softening under the weight of yesterday’s memories. He knows what to do.

“Take Uzume with you and attend the meeting without me,” Sasuke says, taking off his Hokage robes and hanging them over his chair. He gives Sakura the ghost of a smile, and moves to rid her of her stack of files, sliding them onto his desk. “I’ll look over the notes tomorrow. I trust you’ll make the right decisions.”

The smile Sakura gives him in return is blinding, positively radiating with the brightest, most brilliant happiness. Sasuke feels his heart swell with pure, simple pride.

“You sure?”

Sasuke nods at his assistant. “I’m sure.” He picks up both bento boxes from his desk, and puts a hand at Sakura’s back to gently urge her forward. He spares her a tender glance. “I have lunch plans with Sakura.”

He's learned his lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to ask any questions about the plot holes!


End file.
